


The Deceptive Waltz

by the_tilly



Series: Dance with the Devil [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Umbridge Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 83,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_tilly/pseuds/the_tilly
Summary: AU, fifth year. A man isn't meant to see what his life would be like if he chose a different path. One man gets that chance but the horror of his choice can never be erased from his memory. Now he must decide if he is to try everything to return, or attempt to fix the universe he ended up in, even if that means killing his counterpart. Very slow divergence from canon.  Warning: Characters will die in this.





	1. The Headmaster's Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I will be slowly posting chapters on here. Some of the story already exists on Fanfiction.net this is a cross post from there, but this will have the most up to date, revised chapters.
> 
> This story starts the summer of Book 5 and continues from there.
> 
> I would like to thank my Beta NightHerald for assisting with editing the first chapter. I will be correcting and updating chapters as we work through them.

 

The streets were silent at this hour of the night. Each house had its lights off and most likely all those inside had tucked into bed hours ago; even the neighborhood cats and dogs seemed to be snoozing. The bright lamps seemed to flicker for a few moments, before each flame sprang from its place. Each one flew directly to an object that resembled a lighter in form, and which snapped closed when the last of them entered.

Dumbledore smiled warmly to himself as he pocketed his Deluminator into his blue cloak. He patted the area, a gesture passerby might have interpreted as a sign of making sure it had not disappeared. However, to anyone who was wise enough to know the brilliant wizard, they would say he was merely thanking his beloved object for its work. Dumbledore strolled down the street as though it were his own familiar halls, his old hands clasped together behind his back, and he even dared to hum a tune. Without a care, he continued to walk to a broken house on the corner of the street.

If any of the residents of the area were awake to witness such things, they would surely be shocked to see the cloaked man not only steal all the lights, but approach the Black house. The Black house was a thing of children's tales. Most of the residents liked to act as though it did not exist in their quiet neighborhood. The overgrown weeds and towering bushes were enough to make kids stay away, and its large hole in the shabby roof and crumbling foundation made the adults turn their noses.

So, it was a wonder as to why this wizard, who was famous in his own right, would stroll into such a place.

Dumbledore went through the weeds as though they did not stain the ends of his robes. He did not seem to be bothered that the steps were broken and weak looking as he walked over them. They groaned against his weight but they did not give way as most would have thought. He knocked three times on the rotten door, all the while continuing to hum that strange tune.

If he was surprised that the door seemed to open without any help, he did not show it. He merely let himself in when the door was wide enough and went onward with his venture.

The entry way was dark and smelled like musty boots and old wood. In a house so old, one would not be surprised by such things, as they were to be expected. However, another smell slowly overpowered all others: a hint of peppermint with ginger spice. It quickly cut its way through the older scents and beckoned the headmaster to find its origin.

The old wizard reached into his pocket and with one click of his magical lighter-like object, brightened the place in the literal sense. The entrance was as old-looking as it smelled, with spider webs abundant on the walls. A large once-grand staircase led to further rooms, though it was ridden with holes. Even Dumbledore did not think of traveling up those.

He turned towards the living quarters and headed in. It was almost as though the rest of the house did not exist as the walls were clearly new with dark purple wallpaper plastered on them. A brown leather couch adorned the middle of the room, although it was hard to see since it was covered in worn books looking as old as the house itself. The only space to sit on the thing was a cramped corner with ink stains dotting it. Some of the stains glinted the candlelight, showing how fresh they were.

On the floor near the couch was an impressive stack of newspapers, both magical and Muggle. Some seemed to be torn into pieces while others were left neatly folded. Clippings from each of them had been taken and spread across the wall. Pins were pushed in with red string tied around some.

To anyone looking at it, it appeared to be a large mess. Dumbledore leaned in and looked it over, peering just over his spectacles at the articles. He smiled at the one featuring a story about an old witch complaining about her neighbors and traced the string attached to it to a story about an exploding tea set. Other than someone being upset there didn't seem to be an obvious connection.

Dumbledore continued to look around the cozy room.

The floor was covered in a bright red rug over its hardwood flooring, which was also very new-looking. A foot or two beyond the end of the rug was a fireplace, its hearth full of ashes from the past winter, and maybe the one before it as well. The fresh wood piled on the side gave the room a healthy scent, as well as making it look rather homey to whatever guest had come to visit.

If any difference between the living area and the rest of the house shocked the old man, it did not show at all. In fact, Dumbledore's humming had increased and a playful smile grew on his lips.

The scent of peppermint grew as footsteps drew closer to the living area. The master of the house entered to find the headmaster standing rather whimsically at the edge of his quarters. The room he had left -one would presume it was the kitchen area- was too dark to make out.

The master of the house was carrying a tray with two cups of steaming tea and curious looking sweets, which changed color depending upon which angle you were standing. He smiled at the Headmaster.

"It's been over a year, Albus," he said in a silky voice. He tilted his head to get dark hair away from his vision, nearly puffing at one strand that seemed determined to block his view.

Albus had stopped humming finally as he eyed the tray.  "That it has," clasping his hands once more. "I see my visit was not a surprise."

The man smiled, causing gentle wrinkles to form on his young-looking face. "Not at all. You know nothing surprises me anymore."

"Ah," Dumbledore answered. He pulled out his wand and quickly conjured a modest chair for himself. "I wonder then if you have guessed why I have come here tonight."

The man watched the headmaster take his new seat, and followed suit. He quite easily squeezed himself between the couch arm and the stack of books. He wiggled a bit, probably smearing the ink stains into his pants in the process, making a book move to prevent it from pinching his hip when he sat. He placed the tray onto the table between them and then started pouring tea into one of the cups.

"I must admit, that I haven't a clue as to what you will ask of me." He spoke honestly, taking a teacup from the tray for himself along with a sweet. "However, I can imagine it will not bode well for my health."

"One can only imagine," chuckled the headmaster. He continued to smile as he took one cup for himself. He carefully sipped the warm liquid before closing his eyes, seeming to savor the flavor. "No one makes peppermint and ginger tea like you."

"Flattery," said the man, waving a hand at the comment, but he looked away as though he were embarrassed.  "A gentle means to start a hard conversation."

"Or merely a nice way to continue peace," Dumbledore said and sipped his tea again.  He helped himself to a few of the color-changing sweets -- they were soft candies, melting away almost instantly when he popped them in his mouth. "How do you like your house? You must forgive me, for I was in a little bit of a rush to find you something."

"Don't think a moment on it." The man waved his hand once more as though to ward off any negative thoughts. "This place is far too big for just me. It's more than enough."

"I'm glad to hear that," Dumbledore spoke happily. "Though, I must admit that I did not think you would stay if I did not continue to visit."

"You gave me more than enough to keep my mind busy," he said gesturing to all the books on the couch. "A new book every week, Albus? Really. It's too much."

Dumbledore's lips curved into a smile. "You've always been up to any challenge I've given you so far. I'm sure you'll do well on any I could hand you in the future."

"Which brings us to what you have come to ask of me," the man said and then sighed, taking his own generous sip of tea. "In all honesty, and games aside, what do you ask of me?"

"Always trying to get to a point before the true point is made," the headmaster said, as though to he did not hear the first part of that man's comment. "You know your questions must come first."

The man nodded, placing his cup back down on the tray. He offered the headmaster more tea, who accepted with a nod, before asking, "Is it true, Albus?"

Dumbledore's eyes became graver as did his once playful voice. "I'm afraid so."

The man turned his eyes away in deep thought. His brows pinched together for a few seconds as though in pain before glancing back up at the headmaster. "Is the boy in any danger? Are the wards holding as they should? Is he-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to pause any more questions. Once the man had ceased, Dumbledore spoke gently. "We are  _all_  in danger. You know this as well as anyone."

"Of course..." he muttered and gave a fierce nod before refilling his tea and sipping it as though it were a much-needed vice. When he seemed to be through thinking over the headmaster's words Dumbledore began again.

"I know his safety is of great importance to you, all things considered," Dumbledore said, now hitting his stride in the conversation. "He will need a great amount of guidance in order to survive this year. A figure that is there constantly to give hope. Alas, I fear that he is struggling with the pain of a great loss – something I have trouble with at the best of times- and he will be in danger from inside and out."

"I agree with you," he said, nodding almost to himself. "I think everyone could use some hope this year."

"Would you object to being that hope?" Dumbledore inquired watching him closely.

"I would object quite loudly at that," the man responded with widened eyes. "If there were a list of people who shouldn't be providing that poor boy with hope, I would be number one on it."

"Once again, you sell yourself short," Dumbledore said with a smile. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the nervous man in front of him. "You can be a beacon of hope. Look at how different you are, what you could have become but didn't. You are wise, humble, and if I do say so myself, quite a charming man. You can do much more than just study the world through books."

The man snorted but the corner of his lip curled. "You think too much of me."

"If I may say so, I think just the right amount about you," replied Dumbledore, taking a sip of his tea to allow the other man time.

The man continued to drink his tea, staring into nothingness now. It did not seem to surprise him that the headmaster had granted him an inside glance, that Dumbledore trusted him enough to let him see a possible weakness and see him in such a positive light. He did not even look back at the headmaster. If one did not know him as the headmaster did, one would think he was not absorbing all the words into his being. But Dumbledore knew better than just anyone. He could see the conflict in his eyes and the stiff way he held his shoulders.

Not a word had gone unheard.

"You see," Dumbledore started, pulling the man from his thoughts. "Not only will he be in great need of some help, but I will as well."

At this, the man looked up and connected eyes with the headmaster, repeating his words, "You will as well?"

"Yes," he nodded, the twinkle coming back to his eyes. "My groundskeeper and good friend Hagrid will be on his way to reach out to the giants. I'm afraid his journey will be quite long - almost until Winter if I have calculated correctly - and I daresay that Hogwarts will be short a teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, and I will be without a dear friend."

The man sat up straighter in his position on the cramped sofa. "Is it true the Ministry will replace such missing teachers as they see fit?"

"So you've heard?" Dumbledore seemed to brighten even more at this, glad to see the man had kept up with the news. He spoke easily, "It is true. It seems Fudge no longer deems my judgment up to his standards. He thinks I'm pulling a stunt of sorts."

"Rubbish!" the man spat, attempting to take another sip of his tea and only to find it empty. He still held the cup in his hands though, not ready to give up the comfortable weight. "Men of great power are quaking at the thought of using it for good. What's the point of the Aurors if they are not going to protect the people?"

"I believe it will be up to a smaller group of people to assist with protecting others. I have some on the lookout already," Dumbledore answered, finishing his tea and setting his cup down on the tray. "I seem to have some missing spots though at Hogwarts. There are only so many positions that can be filled on such a short notice. The school year begins in less than a fortnight. If I don't fill them by then, Fudge will surely put in people he sees fit."

"If the Minister could see past the end of his nose, perhaps this wouldn't be such a terrible thing," the man answered, tightening his grip on his cup.

"Now, now," Dumbledore chuckled and waved a hand to levitate the tray to the kitchen for his host. He watched as the man hastily gave up his cup to the tray as it floated into the dark kitchen area. "I must confess that I too am disappointed in the Ministry's choice. However, that still leaves me with the position between what they want and what Hogwarts needs."

The man shrugged. "And what it needs is clearly your decision."

A second after he spoke it, the man knew it was the incorrect thing to say. He visibly winced at his statement, clearly afraid it would be taken the wrong way by the man he admired.

However, he had nothing to fear. Dumbledore seemed to think this over for a few moments before rephrasing the statement. "What it needs is good decisions by me, not any decision I could make."

"Yes, of course," the man answered, nodding agreement. He folded his hands together and began to twiddle his thumbs in a way that suggested he was not conscious of this habit. He seemed to think for a few moments, before snapping back to attention when Dumbledore began speaking again.

"I would of course, always look to others for their opinions on whatever matters occur," he said with a gentle voice and slightly raised eyebrows. "And of course, I need others' help in making these decisions come true."

"Albus." The man shrugged for the second time and with a heavy sigh he said, "Please, no more pleasantries or attempts to sway my favor. Just ask what it is you want."

Even though Dumbledore had seen the end to his little game, he still smiled. It appeared he would have to ask outright, something that he did not do very often. He found he liked to push the other man, and the other man enjoyed the game even more than Dumbledore himself.

"Would you like to take the place of one of the school's teachers, while they are away?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, of course!" The man said, sighing in relief. He recalled part of their earlier conversation and said airily, "Care of Magical Creatures was always an easy subject."

"Oh, my dear man, I do not mean Hagrid as the one you are to replace for the moment," Dumbledore said with a growing smile.

The man's eyes grew slightly wider as he realized he had been tricked. However, he could not find it in him to be in the least bit surprised since Dumbledore always had a way of doing this to him. He had the sudden urge to lash out with a 'What then?', but refrained from doing so as the headmaster spoke again.

"I would like you to teach a very different subject. One you do not like to practice, so if you could forgive my slight trickery," Dumbledore said, placing his folded hands in his lap. His smile still held despite his host's lack of one. "I think you would be rather skilled at teaching Transfiguration while Minerva is away on Order business."

The man covered his eyes with his hand and let out a pained sigh. The old man had gotten him again. For a moment, it felt like he was back at home. Even though he lost this little game, he found himself feeling better than he had in weeks. He missed sharpening his mind with Dumbledore.

"You know why I would have difficulty teaching such a subject," the man started but already felt Dumbledore had an answer.

"The use of a wand?" Dumbledore questioned. When the man slowly nodded, Dumbledore smiled again. "Forgive me but I have had the misfortune of dueling you. I think we both know you are quite capable of teaching without one."

"Being capable, and not coming under heavy suspicion are two different matters," the man complained, shaking his head. "I worry others will not be as forgiving as you if my true nature is found out. I hear my wand is rather famous."

"Your wand is, that is true," Dumbledore conceded, but the twinkle in his eyes didn't diminish as he looked the man over. "Your face, however is utterly unknown but to a few. I can guarantee you that they will not be present in Hogwarts for the whole year. Your name, your real name, is just as rare. But for the sake of security, I would suggest you to get creative with your name."

"A little more creative than my counterpart?" The man let out a single huff of laughter, shook his head, and smirked at Dumbledore. "I haven't a clue what to pick."

Dumbledore leaned in like he was telling a secret. With his eyes twinkling with mirth he said, "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"Less than a fortnight you say?" the man questioned, putting a hand under his chin in thought. He cocked his eyebrow up at Dumbledore who nodded. "Well, then I best get started."

 


	2. Slip of the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story thus far, please leave a comment and/or kudos. Thank you!

 

The trip to the castle this year had put Harry on edge. Other than meeting Luna Lovegood, seeing those beasts that pulled the carriages had left him wondering his own mind; It didn't help that the only person who also saw them was Luna. Not to mention it seemed everyone was talking about him before he sat down.

Harry stared up at the staff table as most of the other students were now doing. Almost everyone seemed to notice that the Head of Gryffindor House was missing among the group. However, only Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione noticed another teacher missing as well. Though how anyone else could miss someone as big as Hagrid was beyond them.

"Where do you think they are?" Harry questioned, still looking at the empty seats.

"Don't know," Ron whispered to him and added with a hopeful voice, "Maybe Hagrid's just late?"

"I bet they're out doing work for the Order," Hermione said in an even more hushed voice. She spoke so low that they had to lean towards her to hear, and even then, Harry wasn't sure he caught it all. "You know, against You-Know-Who."

"I think we know, if it's Order work, who they're working against Hermione," Harry snapped, a little rougher than he meant to. He quickly apologized when she turned a bit pink. "I didn't mean it like that..."

"It's ok," she said hurriedly, though her cheeks were still tinted. She stared hard up at the staff table as she spotted some movement among them.

Eerily reminiscent of the way the imposter Mad-Eye Moody entered the hall last year, a figure covered in a large cloak made its entrance by walking through the door by the staff table. A figure covered in a large cloak walked into the door by the staff table. Despite the entrance being rather quiet, the hall seemed to pause as they all watched the figure. The figure took his cloak off with a quick flourish, revealing a man beneath. He looked around the hall at the students, seemingly very uncomfortable with all the stares.

He moved to the staff table without waiting, keeping his head lowered as he passed by the teachers. He looked to be the same height as Snape, with black hair, and pale skin. His shoulders appeared broad though he was visibly attempting to appear smaller. He moved to the spot McGonagall would usually sit at during the feast, and stood behind the chair, tapping his fingers nervously against it. He nodded his head towards the teachers before he turned to Dumbledore. It seemed as though no one had expected to see anyone other than McGonagall there, because they all wore the same surprised expression. Everyone but Snape and Dumbledore, that was.

Dumbledore smiled openly at him, gripping the nervous man's hand in his own. They leaned towards each other and whispered a few words. Both parted with smiles on their faces. The man then took his own seat, but kept his eyes on Dumbledore instead of the students. It seemed he was also a teacher.

Harry stared at the newcomer as well as most of the other students. Now that he was seated, it was easier to make out his features. The mysterious teacher had dark blue formal robes on, which made his pale blue eyes stand out even at a distance. His bangs fell to just below eye level and was properly trimmed elsewhere, making it appear that he wanted to hide his face, which was strange since he was a handsome man from what Harry could see. He had a straight nose, a smooth jawline, and a proper chin. Harry wouldn't be surprised if all the girls who still mourned the loss of Lockhart would forget all about him in favor of this new teacher.

It seemed like whatever had kept everyone from chatting suddenly let up as the hall started buzzing with conversations. Dead was already working with a few people, all of them glancing up at the staff tables and back down to the group. Snippets of conversations would drift over and Harry could tell everyone was talking about the new teacher.

"Do you recognize him, Harry?" Ron asked above the chatter of the hall.

"No," he answered, while not looking away from the new man. There was something in his movements that seemed familiar to Harry. That and even though Harry was sure he hadn't seen this man before, his eyes seemed to strike out at him. Something in the back of his head itched, like a forgotten name. He continued in a slightly less confident voice, "Well, I don't think I've ever seen him before..."

"Do you suppose he works for the Ministry?" Hermione asked, glancing over at them. "Though, he does look a bit nervous up there."

"Think so?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes as though to see the man better.

Harry did the same. It seemed Hermione was correct though, as usual. The man was moving as though he could not find a comfortable spot in his chair. He also seemed to stutter through his conversations with the surrounding teachers, who were probably asking him all the questions the students currently had on their minds. Snape seemed to be the only teacher not interested in talking to him, instead staring down like a vulture at the students below.

"No," Hermione muttered.

Harry and Ron looked up to see Professor Grubby-Plank appear as well, going down the table and sitting in Hagrid's seat. Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Just as the hall seemed to die down a bit, the doors opened to allow the first years into the room.

Madam Hooch, her hair as spiky as ever, walked briskly up to the front of the hall with a group of trembling first years. In one hand, she carried the stool for the first years to sit on and in the other, the Sorting Hat. The first years attempted to keep up with her quick pace but they all stumbled and tripped. They all nearly collided with her when she suddenly spun on her heels to face them.

"Alright first years," she said as though she had better things to do. "When I call out your name, you will be Sorted into your houses. Is that clear?"

The buzz in the hall recommenced tenfold. McGonagall was always the one who led the first years to be Sorted. She has done so every year as long as she had been teaching at Hogwarts, which was saying something. This was the first time the trio had passed nervous glances to each other since arriving at the school. They knew Hagrid has a mission for Dumbledore over the summer, but McGonagall missing as well?

Things were definitely strange.

Madam Hooch placed the stool down in the center of the raised area, and put the Sorting Hat on top of it. It seemed the Sorting Hat had something to say as the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into a song. A song of regret for splitting the first years into houses and reminding everyone that we are all one. A glance at the Slytherin table, and Harry thought it was barking up the wrong tree trying to get them to work together.

It was perhaps the first time hearing a song from the hat that made everyone nervous about the coming year. There was still applause for the hat, but it seemed somber compared to the years before. Harry didn't feel like clapping, and instead waited for the sorting to be over with so he could get some answers on who the new teacher was.

“Alright, Abercrombie, Euan you’re first,” Hooch called out from the list, watching as a terrified first year approach the stool. Madam Hooch plucked the hat off as soon as the first year had been sorted, and before they even got two feet away she called for another one. It continued until all the first years were sorted, and they each received a good amount of cheers for their sort between Madam Hooch's calls

Harry looked across the staff table and noticed another new face at the very end. Between McGonagall and Hagrid missing, with two new teachers in their spots, she had been overlooked. Though Harry couldn’t see how he would have overlooked such a woman before; The toad-faced woman in a brightly pink cardigan sat looking perfectly like someone's maiden aunt in her chair with her fat chin held high and her pinkie finger extended. When she turned from her conversation with the new teacher, Harry got a good look at her face.

Harry  _knew_  he had seen this new arrival before.

"She was at my hearing," Harry said, more to himself than to his friends.

"What?" Ron asked, glancing back up at the table. He had been sharing a whispered conversation with Ginny.

"That woman, in the middle," Harry said, almost pointing to her. "She was at my hearing in the Ministry. Umbridge."

"So, it is true," Hermione whispered. When Ron and Harry looked at her weirdly, she continued. "The Ministry  _is_  trying to control Hogwarts."

"How do you know that?" Ron questioned, looking a bit out of the loop. Ruefully, Harry felt better knowing Ron was just as lost as he was. For once he knew what it was like to not know what was going on.

"Honestly Ron, don't you read?" Hermione let out a small sigh. "The Daily Prophet has been talking of all sorts of 'changes' during the last month. Mainly to do with how the school is run."

"Do you think Fudge really has gone that mental?" Ron glanced at Hermione.

"I'm taking a guess on it, but I'd have to say yes," Hermione said, looking over at Harry. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think right now," Harry answered, feeling like he was close to seething at the mere sight of that horrid woman. "I just know whatever they plan on doing, can't be very good."

"Really," Ron said in agreement.

At that moment, Dumbledore stood and the hall fell instantly silent. The faces of all the students were looking at him, all awaiting answers to the questions. As though he were not aware of how every pair of eyes watched him for any slip or piece of information, he strolled to the center of the platform and began to speak.

"Welcome, welcome," he greeted with his arms spread wide and a smile on his face. "There are many questions unanswered and many new faces here at our dear school. However, this is not the time for speech-making. Tuck in!"

As soon as he finished all the dishes filled with food. The sweet smell of roasted meats, and freshly baked pasties wafted over the hall making the whole room feel warmer. Waves of laughter began from the headmaster's words and many nervous faces had relaxed. The sounds of plates being filled spread through the hall. Unlike before, laughter could now be heard from students and the house ghosts made their appearances. Nearly Headless Nick made his way through the table, making the food look less appetizing in Harry's opinion, as he chatted with several students.

Harry glanced back up at the staff table. They all seemed to be doing the same as the students. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. Surely if something important had happened to the Professors, Dumbledore would have said something. Harry gave a mental nod to himself.

They all began the feasting in earnest, which included Ron stuffing his face and trying to make decent conversation while doing so. Hermione looked plainly disgusted as food particles came out of his mouth while trying to ask her what classes she was taking. Or at least, that's what Harry assumed he was asking since he was currently chewing two plates full of pumpkin pasties. Everyone was sharing their tales of their summer, but Harry remained quiet. It would take longer than a single feast to go over everything that happened to him over the summer.

When the feast had ended and the mood was light once more, Dumbledore stood at the front of the hall. He waved a hand for silence, though it was already down to a mutter after he stood. He smiled warmly down at the students, passing glances over their faces.

"Now that we have feasted and our stomachs are more agreeable, I would like to make a few start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that, as suggested by its name, the Forbidden Forest is just that. Forbidden. All older students should also know this by now," he added, letting those words ring out for a bit longer.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged smirks.

Dumbledore's smile continued as he spoke again with routinely grace, "Our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind all of you to not use magic in the corridors between classes as well as many other banned magical objects. You may see the full list on Mr. Filch's office door."

The Weasley twins shared a bit of chuckle at that. Dumbledore's eyes seemed to spot them and they grew silent once more.

"You may have noticed some slight staff changes this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubby-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Dolores Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And last, but surely not the least, we would like to welcome Professor Magnus Thomason, who will be teaching Transfiguration."

The applause for them was polite for the most part, but a few girls at the Ravenclaw table seemed to think a whistle was in order. Harry could only imagine it being for Professor Thomason, who seemed to shrink in his chair at the attention. The Hufflepuffs clapped the loudest for the Professors, which made up for the lack of enthusiasm from other tables, particularly Slytherin and Gryffindor. Harry could imagine why Gryffindor was so somber since McGonagall wasn't here, but he wasn't sure why Slytherin seemed so put out as well. He was sure it wasn't because of Hagrid or McGonagall, which was the case for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who shared panicked looks with each other. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned how long they would be missing.

"Madam Hooch has also graciously accepted being the Headmistress of the Gryffindor house. If anyone has any dormitory concerns, please direct them to her," Dumbledore said and was about to speak once more when a quiet  _'hem hem'_ echoed through the hall.

Everyone fell silent as Professor Umbridge stood up with a girlish yet somehow dastardly smile. Dumbledore seemed to take it with grace, looking surprised for only a moment. He sat down and let Umbridge talk to the students. Which did not go over very well.

As they left the hall, Harry was seething so much he had to grit his teeth. That Umbridge woman had no right to even speak above Dumbledore like that! Even though Harry was considerably angry with the older man for what had happened during the summer, to see him insulted like that caused an unsettling feeling in his chest.

As he walked down the corridor, Harry kicked a nearby wall, his toe giving a throbbing warning that he might have done some real damage. Ron and Hermione's conversation cut off as they exchanged worried looks.

"Harry," Hermione began, looking over her shoulder quickly. She held her hands out to Harry when she turned back. "I know you're upset-"

"Upset! Upset?" Harry asked, incredulously. "Hermione, I am past 'upset' right now!"

"We know mate," Ron said, trying to calm the waters. "That woman has gotten to everyone. Did you see how everyone grew tense when she started talking?"

Harry looked up, trying to remember. No, he hadn't seen that. He only knew what he had felt when she began to speak in front of the whole hall. He didn't think to glance around to see if others felt the same as he did. That woman talking down at them like they were five years old had gotten him.

Now he felt like a right git. He felt Hermione shoulder past him and he watched as her bushy hair bounced down the hallway towards a taller figure.

"Professor!" Hermione called, waving down the new Transfigurations professor. He turned with an expression that was almost like a deer caught in headlights. He briefly glanced around as though to make sure Hermione was calling for him, when she ran up to him. Ron and Harry exchanged looks but followed her lead.

"Professor Thomason," Hermione said when she caught up to him. "Do you happen to know where Professor McGonagall and Professor Hagrid are?"

He gave her a perplexed look. "I haven't a clue," he said with a voice that seemed to be silky in quality. Harry absentmindedly wondered if Thomason was part Veela like Fleur. "You would have to speak to Albus- Professor Dumbledore if you want to inquire, but I doubt he has much information he can provide at the moment."

"One more question if I may sir," Hermione asked.

"Of course, Miss...?" Professor Thomason seemed to have grasped hold of his demeanor, as though he just realized he was their Professor. He straightened himself and clasped his hands together in front of him.

"Hermione Granger, sir," Hermione introduced with a smile. She turned slightly. "And this is Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter."

"Yes, very good Miss. Granger." Thomason said, looking between all three of them. For a moment, his eyes connected with Harry's, and he felt the peculiar instinct to step back. The feeling abated when the professor looked back at Hermione. "And what is your question?"

"Have you met Professor Umbridge before today?" She asked in a curious voice. "She doesn't seem to know anyone besides Professor Dumbledore. I always thought teachers met before the start of the year, that's all."

"I can't say I have," Thomason answered, rubbing his chin in thought. "In fact, I haven't met any of the teachers before, besides Professor Snape. It seems we're as new to each other as any new student would be, I'm afraid."

"Really?" Hermione seemed to have absorbed some information during this conversation that had escaped Ron and Harry. She gave him a small smile and said, "Thank you for your time sir."

She grabbed Ron and Harry by their arms and dragged them away from the bemused-looking Professor. They raced up the stairs towards the Gryffindor tower past many of the portraits who yelled at them to not run in the halls before Hermione pulled them into an alcove and turned to them. Harry and Ron breathed heavily, having raced to this spot. Harry almost felt upset that Hermione wasn't more out of breath.

"Did you guys hear what he said?" Hermione said with a smile.

Ron and Harry passed a look again, and Ron said, "Yeah, he said to talk to Dumbledore. Loads that'll help us-"

"No, no!" Hermione said, waving her hand. "Don't you two listen? Honestly!"

Yet again, the boys were lost and Hermione sighed.

"He called Dumbledore by his first name, before correcting himself! Not only that but he had only met Snape before today," she said, glancing between them to wait for them to catch on. When they didn't, she explained, "That means he's probably friends with Dumbledore! He most likely is another member of you-know-what..."

Now that they had figured out Hermione's excitement, Harry couldn't imagine why this made her so happy. It still proved that Professor McGonagall was missing, which made the food from the feast sit heavy in his stomach. Not only that, but Hagrid was also gone. Any way Harry looked at it, this was something to be dreading, not anticipated with excitement.

"But that still doesn't help that we're missing two teachers," Harry stated.

"Yes, but don't you see?" Hermione said, bringing her voice to a whisper as a group of second years passed by. "It means Dumbledore saw this coming, which means they are most likely all right. If he waited any longer than a day, the Ministry would have put one of their own into the missing teachers' spots."

"So, you're saying this is all planned out?" Ron questioned, still not catching on.

"Of course!" Hermione said, smiling and proud of her skills of deduction. Suddenly, her face fell. "Oh no!"

"What?" Ron asked, frightened of her sudden fall of excitement.

"We're supposed to lead the first years to the dorm as Prefects!" Hermione cried, racing back to the hall in dismay. Ron shot a look of 'sorry mate' at Harry before dashing off behind Hermione. Though Harry noticed he wasn't running nearly as quickly.

Harry glanced around the hall, wondering if anyone had caught their conversation. He gritted his teeth, not liking that Ron and Hermione couldn't be close by. It felt like everything was changing this year on him, and he had no control over any of it.

He wandered towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, where the common room and his bed lay waiting. There didn't seem to be anything he could accomplish now. It seemed Harry was going to have to wait until their classes started before he found out anything about the missing Professors, and the new ones.

Harry went up to the Boy's Dormitory for the night, running into a spat with Seamus about the Daily Prophet saying Dumbledore and him were liars. It ended with Seamus leaving, and everyone else going to bed. It did leave Harry with more questions, and worry about the rest of the year.

How was he going to survive school with his sanity intact when even people who liked him thought he was mental?

Despite the warmth in the room, Harry buried himself in his blanket. He felt his own hot breath as he smashed his face into his feathered pillow wondering when Hogwarts started to feel less like home to him.

 


	3. Professor Thomason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This may need a bit more revision, however I am happy with it finally. Please leave comments and/or kudos if you liked the story so far. Thank you.

The next morning Harry woke up to the sound of someone rattling around the room. By the time he retrieved his glasses so he could make out what was going on, Seamus left the dormitory. Harry watched as his robes disappeared through the door. Harry clenched his jaw and let out a huff of breath through his nose.

The rest of the day gradually became worse and worse.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way through the hallways towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry was even more keenly aware of all the stares. It felt strangely like being back in the end of his second year with everyone thinking he might be going crazy. This time, it seemed they thought him and Dumbledore were both nutters.

"You can't let them bother you," Hermione said, looking through her morning's Daily Prophet. Apparently, she wanted to keep up with what the enemies were saying by reading it. Harry thought it was a waste of time.

"You try being the center of it," Harry muttered, taking another bite out of his sausage.

"Potter!" Angelina marched up to Harry with her braided hair swinging.

"Hi, Angelina."

"Hi," she said briskly, "Good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Nice one," said Harry, grinning at her. It soon fell though as she ran through all the things that had to be done now that Wood was out of school. Between Tryouts this Friday and practices, it seemed Harry's schedule was going to fill up fast.

It became even more apparent when Madam Hooch went around passing out the class schedules for Gryffindors. It took a large amount of self-control to not let his head hit the table.

"Do I even want to know?" Ron asked, watching Harry.

"You really don't," he answered, only for Ron to peak at it for himself. On the bright side, Fred did offer to sell them Nosebleed Nougat for cheap. Hermione glared at them fiercely enough to stop any attempt though. Which was apparently a good thing as Fred admitted to not having the formula correct yet.

Their first day back at classes started with History of Magic where Binns made even a war where giants fought each other sound boring, then double potions where Snape gave them extra essays, Trelawney with her dream dairy nonsense that Harry made up anyways, and then Umbridge. Harry didn't make it half way through her class before he was assigned detention for the week with her, missing out on Quidditch practice and tryouts.

Angelina practically ripped his head off for it too. He tried asking Umbridge to have Friday off detentions, but that seemed to make the toad even happier knowing he was missing out on something. Detention with her seemed simple at first which was writing lines, but soon Harry discovered what the quill he was using did as the cuts appeared on the back of his hand, and the words he had written were in his blood.

He rubbed the back of his hand, even though the wounds could no longer be seen. They healed almost as quickly as they appeared, though he was sure a whole week of this could cause them to stay permanently.

The next day started off gloomy with rain. The staff table was still missing one large occupant that Harry felt rather sorely. Even McGonagall missing started to make Harry feel uneasy. So much about Hogwarts was changing this year that made him feeling almost ill. The only bright spot to the day was, no Snape and no Umbridge classes. They did have Double Charms and Double Transfiguration. Harry wasn't looking forward to the latter of the two.

Harry couldn't find a way to sit still in his chair as Transfiguration was about to start. Of all the classes he had to take this was one he was most nervous about. Not because he was rubbish at it, but because of who the teacher was. For years now, he had been taught by Professor McGonagall. He wasn't sure how another person could teach it the way she did.

That and he was hoping the new Professor would release the whereabouts of McGonagall.

Professor Thomason came in, with his robes billowing in his wake. Harry felt himself tense up for a moment, feeling like he had seen this before. Thomason turned on his heel when he reached the front of the class and clasped his hands together soundly. He peered over at all his students who had grown quiet on his entrance.

"Welcome, welcome," he said in his silky voice, that suggested rehearsal. "As you know by now, I am your temporary teacher, Professor Magnus Thomason."

Ron mouthed his question of 'temporary' to Harry. Harry only shrugged, not knowing what to think of it as well. He had the urge to ask if this meant Professor McGonagall would be coming back soon, and if so, when. He saw Hermione shift in her seat as well.

"I'm sure you will find me adequate to follow in your former lessons and further your learning," he said, constantly moving as he did. He would walk one way, and quickly turn to wave his hand about as he spoke then strolling off in another direction, as though he couldn't decide where he wanted to go. He never kept his eyes directed at any student for very long either, almost shying away from their gaze.

"I have been able to glance over your records of what your Professor has taught you all so far. It appears all you need this year are your skills for the O.W.L.s at the end of the year. Which is to say, I must push you all harder this year than you have ever been pushed before," he said, pausing in his speech to let a few groans pass through the class. "Naturally, you will all be glad to know that we are going to be starting more advanced forms of transfiguration. I think you will find these lessons very interesting and hopefully, very informative."

As the Professor made his speech about the class, Harry felt his eyes narrow without thinking about it. He was almost certain that he had seen those exact movements before. Being in Quidditch for so long, he learned to track someone's movements to guess their next play. However, he could not seem to understand the Professor's need to for much dramatics. Nor could he, for the life of him, pin point where he had seen those movements before.

Thomason waved his hand about as it quickly morphed, to the shock of the class. His hand was now slender and snakelike, with scales covering it completely. It looked almost slimy from a distance when it gleamed in the sunlight. He smiled at their faces.

"The years of simple transfiguration spells have passed," he said evenly as he waved his hand once more, returning it back to normal. Most of the students looked awed. "As many of you have guessed, these are usually lessons you would learn in your sixth year. However, I am a firm believer in pushing the limits of what we can all accomplish. Today you will be learning how to do small, self-transfigurations."

Everyone had turned their attention to him. Even Malfoy seemed to be keen to pay attention to this new Professor. Harry could see why. The Professor was moving as though he was nervous, anyone could see that. Though, he was also giving off a sense of power. Almost like Dumbledore. There was a quiet sense of power about him that was almost intoxicating. It seemed as though all the air in the room moved when he did.

Thomason rolled his hand on his wrist, changing it back and forth between that reptilian skin to human again, then asked if anyone had any questions. A hand shot up in the air and Harry wasn't the least bit surprised that it was Hermione.

"Yes Miss. Granger?"

"I was wondering Professor, how you are able to perform a complex spell without the use of a wand," she questioned.

" _Ah_ ," he started, shuffling his feet a bit. He put his hands behind his back. "I studied many years to learn how to do spells with sheer will without the use of a wand."

"Can you do any spell without a wand?" asked Neville in awe.

"Not any spell," Thomason answered, shaking his head slowly. "There is a limitation to what one can accomplish with the use of a wand. I am able to change anything on my body with wordless spells, along with a few hundred different spells."

"A few hundred?" whispered Ron, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. "Blimey."

"What restrictions does wandless magic have exactly?" Hermione asked, looking very much like she wanted to start taking notes. Her hand twitched towards her bag a few times.

"Distant spells of course are limited," Thomason explained, now leaning up against his desk and putting his hand to his chin. "Such as a simple 'Stupify' is beyond most wandless wizards like myself. I would need to be able to touch the person to use the spell properly. Even then, it doesn't always work as well since internal magic is always there on instincts attempting to protect my opponent. I would have to be very clever to get around it, or just far more powerful than the person I would be trying to use the spell on. Being a Wandless Wizard isn't always the best during a fast-paced duel at a distance either because of such limitations."

"Wandless Wizard?" Malfoy question, his nose scrunched up like he smelled something awful.

"Yes," was the simple reply. "I am of the mind that wands, while wonderful tools that can be used in advanced or complex spells to great effect, they are unneeded in daily life."

"Does that mean you don't have a wand?" asked Malfoy incredulously.

"I do have a wand," Thomason answered, looking at Malfoy, who seemed to almost shrink in his desk. Thomason kept his eyes there for a moment longer before his eyes moved away. "Though, if I ever have need of it, it will only be for advanced magic far beyond what we are going to be learning this year."

Whispering broke out in the class over this statement. A few hands rose in the air, waiting for their turn to ask questions about this new theory. It seemed Professor Thomason just caught on that his lesson was starting to get out of hand now. He shook his head a bit and pushed himself from his desk.

"Now, I know this is an interesting subject that many find either to be controversial at the best of times, but today's lesson is self-transfiguration, not my wandless beliefs."

The class became quiet once more. Professor Thomason glanced around the room, apparently just taking in the rapt attention he was receiving from the class. He took a deep breath before continuing with the lesson.

"Now, we have a lot to learn today. Does anyone have any more questions before we begin our practice?" Thomason questioned, glancing over the classroom once more. A single hand came up this time, and it was Hermione again. "Yes, Miss. Granger?"

"I was just wondering why we are going beyond N.E.W.T. level lessons this year, sir," she questioned.

"That is an excellent question," he started tilting his head once again so his hair covered a bit of his left eye. "Dark times lay ahead. Even if you do not believe Voldemort-" many people gasped, two girls screamed, and Neville nearly fell out of his chair. Harry was impressed. "has returned. The important thing is, many wizards do believe he has. This makes the lessons we learn all the more important."

Harry felt a stab of anger. Of course Voldemort had returned! Didn't Dumbledore announce it to the whole school already and the world? As though he could read Harry's thoughts, Thomason turned to face Harry. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, before he moved on. During their meeting of the eyes, Harry felt a quick needle like prick on his forehead. He refused to rub it. All he needed was for his friends to notice before they started giving him nervous glances again.

"Not everyone would like to believe such horrible things. No one  _wants_  them to be true," Thomason stated quietly. He then said a bit louder, "But, no matter what one thinks of the world, they must be prepared for whatever is out there. Voldemort, or not."

The air sat heavily in the room as everyone passed glances to each other. Harry looked around the room and saw many of the students looked pale or sick. It was as though they had finally been hit with a realization of what has happened. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit of pride. He felt it was about time they started to see the truth about what had happened. If Harry wasn't in a state of shock as well, he would feel the need to applaud.

The joy he felt at someone outside of his group of friends finally saying they are willing to accept that Voldemort is back, was quickly followed by guilt at the loss of Cedric. Within a second, it felt like stones filled Harry's stomach.

An unsteady hand came up into the air.

"Yes?" Professor Thomason asked the student.

Harry turned around to find a very sick looking Seamus, who's hand slowly returned into his lap.

"Sir... do you really believe that?" Seamus questioned. "That, You-Know-Who is really out there?"

Harry had to bite down a snide remark about him believing a strange teacher over the bloke he spent three years in a dorm with. Thomason seemed to smile at Seamus. He then turned slightly to look out the window as though he thought the answer lay outside. After a few seconds of staring out, even the students began to wonder if the answer was out there. Almost as though Voldemort would suddenly spring up at the window to attack them all. But, just as quickly as those thoughts entered, they vanished when he turned to face the class once more.

"I believe great evil lays out there. Whoever you believe at this stage is of no value to this class," He spoke evenly. He flicked his hand again and the curtains closed. The room was not dark though, as torches on the wall lit casting an unsteady flickering light around the room. "What is important to remember is no matter what you believe is to never be unprepared."

He tapped his fingers against his desk. All eyes seemed glued to him.

"Let's say, for example, that you believed what is said about Voldemort being out there," Thomason spoke, though looked a bit nervous when he noticed all the attention. Or perhaps it was saying the name. A few people still let out little yells whenever Thomas said it. "You learn spells and defenses. You learn to deflect or defuse some of the strongest spells and hexes with ease. And let's say, you're wrong in the end. He's not out there. What have you truly lost? Nothing. You gained knowledge beyond imagination due to your belief."

Harry looked over the class once more, wondering what effect the Professor was having on them. It seemed everyone was entranced by him. Harry could almost see the wheels in everyone's head turning at this information. He had to admit, even though the Professor did not act very impressive, he certainly had a way with words.

"Alright, now let's say you don't believe he's out there," Thomason suggested, waving his arms about again. "So, what do you do? Belittle those that do believe and not train. You don't learn to prepare yourselves. You not nearly as good in hexes and jinxes those who believes are. And let's say, you're right. He's not out there. What have you gained? Nothing, but bragging rights. Now, what if you're wrong..."

Thomason's eyes darkened. He walked through the row between Harry and Malfoy pausing.

"Being wrong about something such as this is a mistake no one can afford," Thomason said. "What if he or his Death Eater's attacked you? Your family? How would you defend yourself? You wouldn't… you never believed so you never trained. You never  _gained_  anything. Always gain something, always grow. If there is one lesson I can instill is any of you it is to grow."

He stopped at the end of the row and turned around. Everyone had turned in their seats to follow him, as though he would disappear if they did not keep eye contact. He glanced around as though to make sure all eyes and ears were in his direction before continuing once more.

"We start our first lesson on self-transfiguration today," Thomason announced with a smile, as though he had not just spoken of an impending doom. "I hope you all have a favorite mammal."

With that being said, it was as though the last few minutes had not happened in class. Thomason went from table to table, making sure everyone was practicing and commanded the room in such a way that no one dared to question him anymore. They all turned to attempting the spell with varying degrees of success.

Harry shook his hand painfully. It felt as though he slammed his fist into the whomping willow a few times and it had hit back. Every bone in his hand surged with pain and his knuckled cracked when he flexed his fingers. He could see the veins in his hand by now and his skin was a light brown color with spotted fur on it.

"This is a... painful lesson," Ron said, shaking his own hand which was a strange sort of green color.

"Tell me about it," Harry said, rubbing his wrist. "I think I have fractured every bone in my hand by now."

They glanced over at Hermione who was frowning at her hand, which looked like a perfect Otter paw.

"Figures she'd get it right," Ron said, though it held no spite to it.

"I didn't," Hermione said, frowning even more. "I'm missing a patch just above the knuckle. Not only that, but I didn't do it wandless like the Professor."

Ron and Harry both squinted at her transfigured hand, but neither could see what she was talking about. She continued to glare at the knuckle, trying the spell a few more times. Though, she tried to not say the spell and do it mentally this time. Her hand shook a bit and the hair grew longer, but that was it. She huffed in frustration.

"Blimey!" Ron stated quietly to Harry. "How can she keep doing that? I feel like my hand is coming off!"

"I know," Harry said, still rubbing his sore hand. "It's a lot harder than it looks."

"What I want to know is how can the Professor do this without a wand," Ron asked, looking sorely.

"Having trouble?" Professor Thomason asked, as he approached their table. All three sat up straighter in their chairs.

"No sir," Ron and Harry said together.

Thomason gave a shrug before he turned to another table, with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sitting together. Malfoy had turned most of his hand, with patches of fur missing from it. Apparently, he was going for a wolf or something like that from the way it bent. His fingers were smaller, into the shape of a paw-like thing though it was so deformed you couldn't quite make out if it was on purpose or accident.

"Wonderful! Five points to Slytherin by Mister…?" Thomason appraised.

"Malfoy sir, Draco Malfoy." He answered with a smug grin.

"Mr. Malfoy," Thomason continued with a small smile. "Keep up the good work."

"What rubbish." Ron turned bitterly to Harry and said, "Hermione's far better."

Harry could see from the corner of his eye, that Hermione did hear Ron's comment. Her cheeks tinted ever so slightly.

"It's not that good," she said modestly looking at her transfigured hand. She turned it over a few times, and Harry honestly couldn't see a single flaw.

"Bloody better than that git Malfoy could ever do," Harry said in defense, wanting something to be angry at with his friends about. It seemed to have worked quite well as Ron certainly brightened up at the comment.

"Brilliant," Ron said with a nod.

Everyone turned their attention to the front when Thomason clapped his hands. He was staring down at Hermione with a smile. Harry felt himself freeze, not realizing that Thomason hadn't moved nearly as far away as he thought. He sat perfectly still hoping that Thomason hadn't heard him.

"One of the best examples of a well-done spell, Miss. Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor" he said turning away. He stopped a few steps away, looked over his shoulder and said, "And detention tonight Mr. Potter for your colorful language."

"Erm, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling his cheeks burn hot. Thomason leaned in slightly. "I have another… detention tonight."

"Well, that complicates things," Thomason said, putting his hand to his chin again. "Then I will work out your detention with your head of house."

Without another word, Thomason turned from their table and continued. When Thomason was far enough away that they were sure he wouldn't hear, Ron leaned over to Harry.

"Bad luck mate," he said, trying to give Harry a sympathetic look.

"Two detentions in the first week?" Hermione asked, looking appalled.

Harry glared at the back of the Professor's head. "Do you guys still think he's part of the Order?"

Hermione looked around to make sure no one was listening, while Ron shrugged his shoulders. Ron was about to open his mouth to say something when Hermione leaned in and signaled for him to hush.

"We can't talk about those things here," she hissed. "Wait until after class."

Harry resisted the urge to snort and turned to look at his hand which was starting to lose the little bit of fur on it. He twirled his wand once more and winced as his bones throbbed. He only hoped that whatever punishment Thomason came up with, it wasn't writing lines with that blood quill. Between that quill, this lesson, and essays, Harry doubted he would have a hand left by the end of the week.

 


	4. Office on the Third Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry serves his detention with Professor Thomason in a familiar room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving the guesses being done on who exactly Thomason is. Feel free to keep guessing but know I will not say yes or no to any guess. It's important to me that everyone finds out when Harry does. Kudos and comments are my life's blood. Please leave one or both if you liked my story. Thank you.

The next day consisted of even more work on top of the work they were already assigned. It seemed every single Professor was adamant about them passing their O.W.L.s this year. Harry could practically feel all the speeches drilled into his head at this point. Even Snape had given them a short version of it, sneering at them all as he went. The only thing Harry was looking forward to was being able to drop potions next year.

Harry threw down his quill, splattering ink across his parchment. He rubbed his hand against his forehead, but this time it was not from his scar. He felt as though if he stared at the parchment any longer, his eyes might implode. It was already painful to write with his hand since the detention with Umbridge. Even though the cuts had healed, Harry could swear he could see the faint outline of those words.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He glanced over at Ron, and saw that he was experiencing the same thing. It made Harry feel a little better knowing he wasn't suffering alone at least.

When Ron noticed, Harry was no longer writing his homework, he put his own quill down.

"Can you believe five essays all in the first week?" Ron groaned, as though Harry had not heard that all day.

"From Snape I can," Harry replied bitterly, looking over his work. In his anger, he smeared a few lines of report, but he couldn't find it in him to care about it. It's not like the Potion's Master would give him a decent grade anyways. He already embarrassed him in front of the class, and vanished his potion which was a sight better than Goyle’s.

"That greasy git," Ron muttered under his breath, sinking lower in his arm as he looked over his own report. It looked a lot shorter than Harry's to say the least. In fact, Harry was sure Ron had been staring out into space for the last ten minutes.

Harry smiled at the distressed look on his friend's face. Ron was rather good at work when he buckled down to it and kept paying attention. However, the red-head just seemed to be bored out of his mind with having to do all the essays lately. Not only that but Hermione refused to help Ron past the first paragraph after Ron had written word-for-word from her on his report to start with. She had stormed out, saying she was heading to the library over an hour ago.

Harry sighed and grabbed his quill. During his tantrum, the point had bent and was too damaged to continue using. Harry stood and left upstairs to find his spare.

"Hurry back," Ron called after him. "I think we'll need to put our minds together for this homework."

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing Ron just wanted to copy his. He entered the boy’s dorm and started going through his trunk. He pulled out his broom kit and laid it aside. He did not have time to unpack for the last week and had been taking out only what he needed in that day. The Professor's kept them busy enough that even on their free day, most of the students were too busy with their noses in the books to enjoy the weather.

Harry paused on the wrapped gift from Sirius. He rubbed the outside of the cloth with his forefingers. He then moved it aside to dig in his trunk.

“Finally unpacking?” asked Neville.

Harry looked over his shoulder at Neville, who came in with a potted plant that looked like it might be ill. The leaves were drooping down over the sides and it was sickly green color. It didn’t have any flowers on it as far as he could see, but instead thick flared leaves patched through the vines.

“Just looking for my spare quill,” Harry answered, not turning back yet to continue his search.

“I’d lend you mine but I broke my last one,” Neville said with a shrug. He went over to his nightstand and put down his plant. He smiled at it before turning back to Harry. “At least I’ve got a Herbology project this year. Professor Sprout said I could keep the sap if it blooms.”

“That’s great,” muttered Harry, giving a smile at him. Neville did seem genuinely happy about the plant project, which made it easier for Harry to look excited with him.

“I know plants aren’t everyone’s thing but, I’m good at them you know?” Neville fidgeted and turned back to his plant. “I’m… I’m good at this.”

“Yeah Neville,” Harry said with a nod, remembering how much knowledge Neville could sprout off last year about plants. Harry had been on the end of some. “You’re kind of brilliant when it comes to plants. Loads better than Ron and me.” 

Neville’s chest puffed up a bit and his cheeks tinted.

“You really think so?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Neville shuffled around, straightening his already made bed. Harry was sure he just made it worse than it was before. Then he turned to Harry like he wanted to say something else but instead he just waved quickly and dashed out the door. Harry watched him go with raised eyebrows. Shrugging to himself, Harry went back to his trunk.

After shifting through a few old bits of junk, such as the old socks he had, and some shirts that were damaged by spilled ink, he found his spare quill finally. He pulled it out and tried to straighten the feather. It looked worse for the wear, but the point was still sharp. He slipped it behind his ear while gathering his items to place back in the trunk. Once everything was safely put back, went back to the common room.

Ron was already peaking over at his essay and scribbling little notes down onto his parchment. When he noticed Harry had returned he gave a sheepish grin.

"You're further than me," Ron complimented. "Maybe you could share what you wrote with me?"

"If Hermione was here, she'd throw a book at you," Harry said, smiling. Ron gave a laugh.

"Good thing she isn't," Ron said, still smiling. Then, he seemed to give an 'oh' expression as he glanced at the table. He lifted a small piece of parchment. "This came for you."

Harry walked over and took it from Ron's hand. The neat-little handwriting read:

**_Dear Mr. Potter,_ **

**_You are to serve your detention at 7 o'clock tonight for one hour. My office is on the third floor. I have been told you will know where to find me._ **

**_Professor Thomason_ **

Harry grimaced. He had almost forgotten about his second detention of the day in sight of all his homework. He sighed and sat down in his chair. How did his professors think he could finish all of his homework and serve detention?

"What does it say?" Ron questioned, trying to see the note. Apparently, he had been too busy trying to copy some of Harry's homework to read it.

Harry quickly explained the note.

"I'd almost forgotten about that," Ron admitted. "What do you think he means by 'you will know where to find me'? There are loads of rooms on the third floor."

"Don't know," Harry shrugged. "I guess I'll find out soon. I’ll probably have to leave in a minute to get there on time."

Harry shoved his books back into his bag and threw he spare quill in with it. By the time he ran his things back upstairs, it was time for him to leave for his second detention.

Harry waited until the staircase moved to the proper spot before going onto the third floor. He looked around and some of the torches weren't lit. Harry frowned, and decided to head where the lights were on to look for the office he was supposed to know. Unlike the rest of the castle, the hallway was clear of anyone. Harry could hear the distant sounds of students talking as they travelled through the main staircase.

He walked down the stone hall, glancing at the doors he knew were empty classrooms or other such things, looking for a sign of some sort. When he had reached the end and no direct way to know which room was Thomason's office, he started opening the doors and peeking inside.

One was an empty classroom. Another was a storage room full of broken jars and cobwebs. Harry sneezed as the dust tickled his nose before shutting the door again. The next one was another empty classroom. He continued to open the doors until he reached the staircase again. He let out a frustrated sigh.

"How am I supposed to take detention in a place I can't find," mumbled Harry. He looked down the dark hallway and suddenly something clicked.

Harry took a few steps down the dark path before pausing. He couldn't help but think that Dumbledore might have lost some sanity if the Professor's office was where he thought it was. He walked down the hallways, past the normal classrooms, into the deserted hallway he had not stepped onto since the end of his first year. He could smell the dust from the unused hallway and felt like shivering when he could no longer make out the sounds of anyone. It seemed like this hallway was just as eerie this year as it was the first.

Harry's jaw dropped an inch when he saw a very plain looking, small scribbled sign saying _M. R. Thomason, Teacher_ on the very door Fluffy had once been behind. Harry must have stood in front of the door for another minute, pondering if this was some sort of joke on him. Surely the Professor would not want to be in a room that a three-headed dog had once called home?

The door swung open and a rather shocked looking Thomason stood in the doorway. He seemed to recover from his surprise after a moment.

"I was about to come looking for you," he stated. "You're twenty minutes late."

Harry almost swore. Had he been travelling up and down the hallway for that long, looking for the office? Apparently so by the sour look on Thomason's face.

"Well, come on in," Thomason said, moving aside.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry said quickly before stepping in. He wanted to say more, but speech had been taken away from him.

The room was nothing like it had been before. The walls appeared to be plaster instead of stone like the rest of the castle. There was dark purple color wallpaper, and the floors had been buffed until they shined. Harry was almost afraid he would slip on the floor since it looked as though it had been waxed. Thankfully he could step on a red shag rug that covered most of the floor. He glanced at the bookshelves which rivaled Dumbledore's collection in size. At least eight selves completely stacked in neat little files, along with either side of the large room held numerous of books. They lay piled six feet high all around the room. Unlike the rest of the rooms on this floor, Harry didn’t smell dust or mold. It smelled vaguely of peppermint and parchment.

Harry watched as Thomason twirled his hand at the torches, which had been dimmed, were now bright. Harry had to squint for a few seconds, being so used to the dark hallway.

"Please, sit," Thomason said, waving his hand once more to make a wooden chair appear in front of his desk. Thomason sat behind the oak, looking desk and folded his hands. He waited until Harry had taken a seat before speaking again.

"In this detention I would like you to sort out my books. By author or by title, whichever way catches your fancy," Thomason spoke with his silky voice. "Line them however you like, just explain your system to me before you leave."

"Do you want me to sort them _all_ out Professor?" Harry questioned with raised eyebrows. There had to be over two hundred books piled across the floor. There was no way Harry could sort through them all.

"If you like to," Thomason replied in a humor-laced voice. He pulled out a parchment and unrolled it. He then pulled out a quill, dipped it into ink and began writing. “I expect you to do as much as you can in an hour.”

Harry sat in the chair, wondering what else he had to do. He didn't know if he had to get started now or he if Thomason wanted him to wait until he was doing writing. After a minute of only the quill scratching against the parchment, Harry finally spoke up.

"Sir?" Harry questioned. Thomason glanced up from his notes. "Do you want me to start?"

"By all means," Thomason said, as his hand swept out, waving towards the stacked books. "And Remember, sort how you like them."

With that, Thomason returned to his quill.

Harry sat still for a few seconds, not quite knowing what to do. He didn't feel comfortable knowing the Professor was going to be watching him try to sort out a bunch of books. He slowly rose from the chair and looked around at all the stacks lying on the floor.

He wasn't sure which one he should sort first. They all looked about the same size and number of books as though the Professor had already begun trying to sort them out. He walked around, trying not to bump into any of them, spilling them on the floor. He came around, closer to the small fireplace hiding by a large mound of books.

Harry visibly winced at the size of the mound of books. It was not like the other piles around the room. This was an unorganized mess of books that seemed to have been dropped, uncaring onto this spot.

Harry bent down and picked up the first book by his foot, causing several others to slide. Harry glanced over at Thomason, whom seemed to not notice the sound of hardback books hitting the floor.

He looked down at the pile and sighed.

After what seemed like hours to Harry, Thomason finally stopped writing on the parchment, which was reaching seven feet in length. He looked up at his student as he stretched out his back from his cramped sitting position.

Harry was sitting in front of a pile of books, which he was trying to make a stack out of. The rest of the room was filled with several stacks. One was by the fireplace, another was by the door, and two over by the bookshelf and the rest were left untouched.

It took a few moments before Harry noticed there wasn’t a sound of the steady scratching from the quill. Harry turned to look at his professor. He had almost forgotten the man was in the room.

"Potter," Thomason said, looking at the piles. "How did you decide to arrange them?"

"By subject," Harry said, pulling himself to his feet. He did similar motions, popping his back. "This one is fictional, the one by the door are spells, and the one over by the fireplace are the non-fiction books."

"I see," Thomason said in amusement and tilting his head. "Why did you choose this method?"

Harry fidgeted under the glaze of his Professor. He didn't know why, but this man made him rather nervous.

"Well, I saw the books on your shelves and they don't seem to be in any alphabetical order, so I decided it wouldn't hurt to try something else," Harry said.

Thomason gave him a smile. He came around his desk to inspect the piles that were made as Harry bounced from foot to foot. When it seemed his inspection was completed he looked as though he wanted to place his hand on Harry's shoulder, but thought better of it. His hand dropped back to his side with his fingers drumming on his thigh.

"Do you think you learned your lesson?" Thomason suddenly asked.

Harry looked up at him in confusion before remembering why he was even here. This was supposed to be his punishment for saying those nasty things about Malfoy. Harry didn't feel like he needed to be punished for saying such things. He secretly thought they were true anyways about that git Malfoy. However, he didn't want to look rude to the Professor.

"I think so sir," Harry said slowly. He wondered if this was a trick question.

"Well, that's a good thing," Thomason said, wringing his hands together. "Did you find anything interesting in my collection?"

"You have a lot of Dark Arts books," Harry spoke without meaning to.

He most cursed when he saw the look on the Professor's face. He knew he had spoken out of line with that one. Even though he knew this would probably mean he would serve another detention, he couldn't help but wonder about it. Ever since he saw a few of the titles, he had been wondering why Thomason had so many Dark books.

Thomason seemed to lose his pace for a few seconds, thinking on Harry's words. He let the words filter through his mind and finally responded.

"That doesn't answer my question," Thomason said evenly.

Without a second thought, Harry answered with the only two titles he remembered.

"' _Defense for the Skilled Wizard'_ , and ' _Walking Through the Unknown'_  looked good."

Thomason brightened up at Harry's answer as though a great relief was washing over him. He smiled his thin lips down at Harry.

"If you like, you may borrow them," Thomason said, pulling them from their rightful stacks to hand them to Harry. He practically shoved them into Harry’s chest, and Harry instinctually grabbed them. "Keep them actually, if you’d like to."

Harry held the books in disbelief. He did not think the Professor would hand over the books so straightforwardly. Although, Harry had admitted to himself he would be interested in looking through some of the darker books he had seen. Not only that but the Professor owned a single Quidditch book which Harry, among many students, would love to get his hands on. He seriously debated on asking if he could have that one instead or trade for it.

"Are you sure Professor?" Harry asked, holding the two books in his hands.

"I'm quite sure about this," He said, looking at Harry. "I learned a lot from these books and I would never deny that knowledge to anyone."

"These books, sir?" Harry wondered out loud. He wondered if there were decent defensive spells in the _Defense for the Skilled Wizard_ book. He knew the book Umbridge had assigned DADA to read was a waste of paper.

"Those, as well as others," Thomason waved his arm to circle the room. "Every book is a treasure and I find myself enthralled each time I pick one up. The Defense book has quite a selection in it for older spells that you may find aren’t typically taught in school."

Harry was beginning to think the Professor would get along very well with a certain bookworm he knew. Still, he was interested in seeing what lay inside of these books that attracted the Professor so. Especially if there were spells he could use to defend himself. Though, he wondered what _Traveling Through the Unknown_ could possibly have in it. He just named it to name something. He turned it over before looking back up at Thomason.

"Thank you Professor," Harry said honestly.

"No matter," Thomason said, waving his hands about again. He glanced around the room and his eyebrows rose a bit. "It seems your detention was up ten minutes ago."

"Oh," Harry said, looking around the room. Harry didn’t see a clock anywhere.

"Now Mr. Potter," Thomason spoke softly. "Remember; respect others in my classroom unless you want another detention."

"I will sir," Harry said, trying to look ashamed. He thought he did a rather good job at it. In truth, he didn't feel bad at all about it. The detention wasn't that much of a punishment, merely boring until he found some interesting titles.

"If you have any further questions for me, please ask now," Thomason said, turning and walking to his chair.

Instantly Harry wanted to ask if Thomason was part of the Order. However, after Hermione had nearly chewed his ear off for mentioning it in class, he decided against it. Not only that but unless he was sure someone was part of the Order, Harry knew he shouldn’t mention it, least it get back to Umbridge. There was one question though, that he knew he wouldn't get in trouble for asking.

"Why this office?" Harry asked, wondering if the Professor had known what had been there four years prior to his arrival.

Thomason gave a rather comical smirk at Harry's question.

"It seems Dumbledore got a rather good kick out of it. Irony and all," Thomason said, smiling at a private joke between himself and the headmaster. "Is that all?"

"Yes sir," said Harry. He was confused about the whole thing but decided not to ask why it was ironic that the Professor be in this room.

"Alright then," Thomason said, still smiling. "Good night, Mr. Potter."

"Good night Professor."

Harry almost made it to the door before he paused. One thing had been bothering him since his first lesson with Thomason.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” Thomason questioned, still in the same spot as though he were merely waiting for the next question.

“Professor Umbridge was upset when I told her the truth about Voldemort, but you said a lot about it as well,” Harry started, not sure how to phrase this without sounding like he was whining. “How do you get to do that and I have to serve detention for it?”

“Well, I’m another Professor so it is hard to give me detention firstly,” Thomason said, his fingers clasping together to rest on his desk. “And second, I never said any of it was true, merely that some believe it. That gives me the ability to say others were merely taking my words incorrectly if inquiring minds become curious.”

“Do you believe me?”

There was a pause in which Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest. Thomason didn’t move or flinch in the least as he stared at Harry.

“Yes,” Thomason answered quietly, lowering his chin. “Yes, I do.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and clenched his jaw tight. Even though Harry knew he was right, that Voldemort was back, it was still heartening to hear someone say they believed him.

“Good night… Mr. Potter,” Thomason said, finally returning to his parchment.

And with that, Harry left for the common room.


	5. The Three Ps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story, please leave Kudos/comments. They really make slogging through a week's work of writing worth it. Thank you. Also, I do have a Beta that is helping me go through the story. I really would prefer having at least two Betas. If you would like to offer, please message me or leave a comment. Thank you!

 

The rest of the week went alright for Harry. The lessons with Professor Grubby-Plank went irritatingly well. Harry nearly seethed when Malfoy made cracks about their other lessons. Harry thought it was rather unfair to make fun of these Hagrid when he wasn’t even around to defend himself! When Harry tried to though, only to be bitten by his bowtruckle because he squeezed it too hard. The little pixie like creature refused to come near him again, making lessons much harder than before.

When they left Care of Magical Creatures, Harry was ambushed by a few of the fourth years coming out of the greenhouse, including Luna who ran up to him straight away.

Without so much as a hello, she barged. “I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.”

“Er- right,” said Harry awkwardly.

It might have helped Harry more if Luna wasn’t wearing earrings that looked like brightly colored radishes. Parvati and Lavender were laughing at Luna, who’s upturned hairstyle only made it easier to see her odd jewelry.  When Hermione and Luna got into a spat about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, it only got worse. It ended when Luna stormed off.

Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to him though and gave him his support, loudly. That stopped the girls from laughing. Harry did feel his spirits lift a little after that. Especially when Seamus gave a look at the group before hurrying off to class.

When they got into Herbology no one was surprised when Professor Sprout started the lesson by giving them a long speech about their O.W.L.s. Harry had the oddest feeling that he could literally hear the eyes rolling in the classroom.  The rest of the day went by in a blur as Harry had to rush to dinner to eat something before his detention. He didn’t even have time to drop his bag off at the Gryffindor tower, and most nights he didn’t get to bed before two in the morning.

After the first week was about to come to a finish, Harry was exhausted. Between the mounds of homework, detention with Umbridge, and Angelina cracking on him about not caring about the team, Harry felt like he needed a week-long nap. It only became unbearable when Ron found out exactly what he had been doing during his detentions with Umbridge. His horrified face was the last thing Harry needed.

“You’ve got to tell Madam Hooch, or Dumbledore about this,” Ron said, staring at the marks that barely stopped bleeding.

“I doubt Hooch could do anything, and Dumbledore has more to worry about,” muttered Harry. Though the real reason he didn’t want to go see Dumbledore was because he hadn’t spoken to Harry since June.

The only thing that made Friday’s detention with Umbridge bearable was being able to see the Quidditch pitch from her window. As he wrote his lines, he attempted to watch any of the tryouts from that window. Sometimes he could see the Quaffle come in and out of view. Someone was doing rather poorly and he had hoped it wasn’t Ron. He knew Ron could do better since they had played at the borrow a few times.

When this detention ended, Umbridge came to inspect his hand like normal, and seemed pleased his hand was openly bleeding now. The toad. She grabbed his hand and at the same time, Harry felt a sharp pain in his scar. Without thinking about it he jumped up from his seat. Umbridge seemed even happier, thinking it was because of his hand.

It took everything in him not to bolt immediately. Harry waited until he had gathered his books, and was just out of sight from her office before he did run. He ran into sweat was pouring from him and raced into the Gryffindor tower.

“Harry, I did it, I’m in, I’m Keeper!”

“What? Oh – brilliant!” said Harry, trying to smile naturally, while his heart continued to race. Ron didn’t seem to mind, handing him a butterbeer and celebrating him becoming Keeper. Angelina even came over and apologized to him for being so short, and letting him know that Ron needed a lot of practice if he was going to be good. Even Fred and George were cheering with Ron about him joining the team. They were surrounded by First Years who had suspicious red marks under their noses, probably from being testers for those Nosebleed Nougats the twins keep making.

Harry left him to celebrate and went to Hermione who was dozing in her chair with her own butterbeer almost tipping out of her hand. Harry shook her lightly on the shoulder until she woke up.

Harry let her know what happened the last few days and his scar hurting. He was irritated to find Hermione suggesting he go to Dumbledore.

“But it also hurt when I looked at Thomason,” Harry argued, rubbing his scar that still throbbed with faint pain. “It’s got to be something else.”

“Even so,” Hermione started, letting out a yawn. “Dumbledore would want to know about it.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, before he could stop himself, “that’s the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn’t it, my scar?” 

“Don’t say that, you know it’s not true!”

Harry left then, declining Hermione’s offer to help her make any of those little knitted things she called hats.   

The next morning, he had sent a letter off the Sirius letting him know what had happened. Though when he went to write the letter, he finally appreciated all the hard work Ron and Hermione put into his letters for the summer. It was difficult to write to someone, telling them everything but in a way, no one else could understand. It took a few tries before Harry felt he had it right.

When he went to the owlery, he ran into Cho. He felt like it could have gone better but she defended him to Filch who was under some impression that he was sending orders for dungbombs.

That morning’s Prophet though was concerning. Apparently, Lucius Malfoy did recognize Sirius when he came as a dog to see Harry off this year. Harry felt a sense of dread, knowing Sirius was going to be deeply unhappy about having to stay cooped up in that house for longer.

The best part of the week had been flying again. Before practice him and Ron did some warm ups. It didn’t stop Fred and George from teasing Ron though. He did do a good job at drills until Malfoy and his friends showed up to disturb their practice. It worked quite well, since Katie ended up in the hospital wing with a nose bleed, and Ron stormed away after Hermione asked how it went.

Sunday was all about doing homework. Harry and Ron were both swamped with work, seeing as how Harry couldn’t do homework because of his detentions, and Ron was busy trying to get better at flying for Quidditch. Hermione was relaxed as she always was on top of her work, much to Ron’s irritation. Harry could hardly stand being in the same room as the two of them, since all they did was bicker. It somehow became better after Ron got a long letter from Percy that boiled down to he should stop hanging out with Harry. When Ron ripped it to shreds. Hermione also offering to help with their homework finally, helped as well.  

That’s when Harry Ron and Hermione had the strangest meeting with Sirius. It seemed he could talk to them through the fireplace in the common room but it was a risk. Hermione was very quick to point that out to him when he appeared. Harry was glad he took the risk though. It was useful since they all learned the real reason Umbridge was in the school.

“Fudge thinks what?” Harry asked, not quite believing what he was hearing. “That we’re building an army or something?”

“That’s exactly what he thinks you’re doing,” said Sirius, “or rather, that’s exactly what he’s afraid Dumbledore’s doing – forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a pause at this, then Ron said, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with.”

The continued their conversation about the Minister’s fears of Dumbledore and what that could mean for the school, when Hermione suddenly asked, “Do you know of any other Order members in Hogwarts right now?”

“Other members?” Sirius asked, frowning at the question. “I think you lot know all of them.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, leaning in. Harry had to stop himself from snapping at her to drop her theory on Thomason.

“Yep,” said Sirius. “Most of them come around the house at least once.”

“But what of a man called ‘Thomason’?” Hermione inquired.

“He’s not part of the Order,” Harry snapped at her. “Just give it up.”

“Thomason?” Sirius questioned, thinking. They all paused and waited for a few seconds while Sirius thought it over. “Common enough name, but I don’t think so. Don’t ask if he is or isn’t. We can’t give away anything.”

“We know,” Hermione said quickly, looking affronted that Sirius would even think to tell her that. “That’s why I asked you instead.”

They continued their conversation until Sirius was offended by them telling him to be careful. Harry felt worse after talking to him than he did before. Harry couldn’t help it that he wanted him to be safe and not back in prison. He almost lost him once and that was enough.

The following Monday at breakfast let Harry know this was going to be a horrendous week as well. The Daily Prophet ran a story about Umbridge becoming a “High Inquisitor”. It didn’t take long before they found out exactly what that entailed as the article went into great details how Hogswart’s ‘falling standards’ had led to the Ministry creating a position that allowed Umbridge full control over firing other Professors. Hermione had figured out it meant Umbridge would be sitting in on every one of their Professors at some point, and Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. He already had enough of her to deal with in just her class, now he was going to start seeing her in other classes.

Harry looked up at the staff table. Each Teacher appeared stiff in their chair. Trelawney seemed especially twitchy as she tried to sip her morning tea and spilled part of it on her. However, there was one Teacher blissfully unaware of her evil. That Teacher was Professor Thomason. He was smiling at Umbridge as she held the Daily Prophet in her hands.

Harry felt his blood boil when he saw Thomason speaking with that woman. He felt a deep seeded betrayal had just taken place. He wondered exactly how long it was going to be before Umbridge learned of Thomason’s lessons and fired him for it.

"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione asked, giving up on waking Ron who was almost snoring into his breakfast.

"Looks like those two are rather cozy," Harry spoke with venom, still glaring at the teachers.

Hermione followed his gaze up to the staff table and saw Umbridge set a flirting hand on Thomason's shoulder. Thomason seemed to ignore the contact. Instead it seemed that he made a joke about something. This only made that sickening girly giggle come from her.

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"I don't think anyone can get 'cozy' with her," Hermione said.

Harry turned away from them, and glanced down at the book he had. It was the _Defense for the Skilled Wizard_. Harry had been taking it to meals with him since that seemed to be the only time had could read it in peace. It was filled with advanced spells that Harry had never heard of. Many times, he wanted to ask Hermione if she could help him practice some of them but then he would be reminded of the piles of homework he still had to complete.

Now, Harry closed the book with a snap, pushing it away from him. He was sickened that the Professor could act so  _normal_ around that woman. How could anyone not see her for the wicked witch she was?

"Harry," Hermione started with a gentle sigh. "You can't hate him for being civil around her. With everything that he has said in his lessons… he would be a fool not to try to get on her good side. Dumbledore has him here for a reason."

Harry frowned. Hermione was still stuck on the idea that Thomason was part of the Order. However, Harry just couldn't see the shy man whom best friends were books. It didn't seem like he could do anything for the Order, unless they needed knowledge. Which, Harry was certain that Dumbledore beat almost any Wizard in that department. Or if they needed someone experienced with wandless magic. That could be very useful.

"Hermione," he said, with exasperation. "There's no way he's part of it."

"I don't see why you're denying all the evidence Harry," Hermione said, looking upset. "It's all there! Dumbledore seems to know him rather well. He uses wandless magic, which is incredibly hard and dangerous to learn. Not only that but he doesn't seem to the type to go with You-Know-Who."

"Not all wizards are divided by those who are death-eaters and those that aren't," Harry said, remembering the words his Godfather had spoken to him not twenty-four hours ago. Though, it felt longer than that. "I don't think he's evil, but I also don't think he's with Dumbledore."

Before Hermione could give her point, Ron appeared to surprise them by showing he was awake and listening.

"Hermione's got a point mate," Ron said, stretching and yawning. "I think he might know something at least about, you know what. Though, maybe he’s not high ranking enough in the Order to know more?"

Harry felt his anger surge. He felt as though his best friends had ganged up on him against this. He roughly grabbed his book from the table.

"Fine. It seems I'm beat, two to one on this," Harry said through his teeth. He stood up and nearly stormed out of the hall. He ignored the looks he was given by the other students and turned to look back at Hermione and Ron. “Come on, we don’t want to be late incase Umbridge is in our class.”

Harry still was fuming from the morning's arguments when he entered first class. He threw his bag down on the table and sat next to a nervous looking Ron. Harry stared straight forward and refused to look Ron in the eyes.

They didn’t need to bother getting to class on time. Professor Binns was as boring as always in front of the class. They also didn’t have to worry about seeing her in the Dungeons during Double Potions either. Snape was as nasty as always, giving Harry’s Moonstone essay a ‘D’. Harry slipped the paper into his bag before Hermione could spot it.

During lunch, a few other students shared with them what Umbridge was like inspecting their class. Apparently, most Teachers have gotten their inspections already. Harry remembered he had Divination next and felt this lesson was going to get very interesting. When Umbridge came up the trapdoor in the floor. Harry and Ron tried hard to make sure their dream diary were filled out. Harry kept trying to answer Ron’s questions while paying attention to what Umbridge was doing.

It went as poorly as one would expect. When Umbridge left, Trelawney was uncharacteristically brisk with everyone. Even Lavender and Parvati who always enjoyed the class were giving each other side eyes at Trelawney’s behavior. At the end of class, Harry could swear Umbridge was humming to herself as they left for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Wands away!" Umbridge said, though it was not necessary by this point. "Open your books and read the next chapter on Defense. There will be no need to talk."

Everyone had also grabbed out their books but Harry chose a different book to pull out of his bag. He flipped open the thick, leather bond book and began reading. It was a defense book, but one that he was sure Umbridge would not like him to be reading. He slipped it behind his copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ in hopes of hiding from the toad’s eyes. Harry thought he should be safe since Umbridge rarely left her desk.

"What are you doing mate?" Ron whispered when Umbridge turned her back to scribble something on the board.

"Reading something worthwhile," Harry answered, turning to the next page. He shifted his eyes back up at Umbridge who was still preoccupied with the board to notice.

"Harry," Hermione started in her reasoning voice. "I'm with you on her being a horrid teacher but do you want another detention?"

"Yeah. I don't like seeing your…" Ron indicated to his hand. "You know."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, I'm at least going to learn in here instead of sitting around just-," Harry was cut off by a very quiet cough. Harry froze in his seat and felt his heart beat loudly against his rib cage. He had taken his eyes from Umbridge to snap at Hermione and Ron, not realizing Umbridge had gotten close enough she could probably tell he had another book slipped in.

All three looked up slowly and the whole class stared at them. Harry could hear his own breath the room was so quiet. Umbridge stood in front of Harry, with her hands folded together and a tense smile on her lips.

"And what,  _exactly_  is that book?" she asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. "I do believe it is not the one that is assigned to read in this classroom."

" _Defensive Magical Theory,_ " Harry answered through his teeth. He still sat frozen with the vague hope maybe she would just give up on asking him questions. "We  _are_  learning defense, aren't we?"

Her laugh echoed through the quiet room and she put a dainty hand to her lips as though to seem shy of her outburst. Before her lips curled into a wide grin and her eyes pierced down at Harry. Before he could do anything, she swiped his copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ out of the way, revealing the leather bond book behind it.

"I'd like to correct you just the tiniest," she started with a smile, "but that book is not approved by the Ministry. I'm afraid I must take it away from you and I daresay you earned another detention for disobeying me."

"But Profess-" Hermione started but was cut off by Umbridge.

"Hands rise if you would like to ask a question,” she said with a fake tut. "Five points from Gryffindor for not following the rules."

Hermione raised her hand and then spoke out. "If it's not approved by the Ministry, then why does it have a stamp of Approval; First Order, on the back?"

The class broke into hushed whispers and Harry heard a small 'got her there' remark from someone behind him. Harry almost smiled, knowing Hermione had gotten Umbridge rather good. He didn't even know that the Ministry stamps books for approval on them until just this moment. Even if he knew that, he never did notice the faded stamp on the peeling back anyways. He was glad Hermione noticed though by Umbridge's reaction. Harry could especially tell she was trying to hide her anger by the red little splotches starting on her face.

"Is that so?" she asked with a high-pitched voice.

She snatched the second book from Harry and looked at the back. Her eye bulged at the writing and looked for any tiny detail that might be missing in case this was all just some trick. As though Harry could honestly fake something like that. Her eyes ran back and forth on the seal, looking at the faded gold surrounding the tiny scrawl that held the approval of the Ministry. She seemed at a loss as what to do since it was obviously not a fake stamp. She looked around the room quickly, before her lower lip quivered in anger.

"Well… I…." she finally said in a whispered tone. "I guess it is."

Harry felt a flood of triumph throughout his body. It was almost better than winning a game of Quidditch against the Slytherins. He finally felt that this was going to be the first time he got something over on Umbridge.

"Then give me back my book, professor," Harry said in an almost hissing voice. He held out his hand and waited for the book to be given. "I believe you instructed us to read, after all."

Instead of handing the book back to Harry, she flipped it open and looked at the inside cover. Harry never noticed anything remarkable about it, but her lips once again curled into a smile.

"I'm afraid that the detention still stands. I'll have to give you detention until you learn respect," she said, a sickening glow taking over her body now that she was finally able to get one over on him. "Stealing this from a Teacher’s personal library is warrant enough."

Harry instantly felt a boil of rage begin and was about to start shouting at the horrid woman when he felt someone kick his ankle. He snapped his head to a sheepish Ron, who was giving him a pleading look. Harry sat back in his chair and just glowered at her for a few moments.

“He gave it to me,” Harry said, as calmly as he could muster.

“Why would Professor Thomason give you this book?” Umbridge tutted, leaning over the desk and closer to Harry’s face. “He believes that all of you have been taught dangerous things these past few years and would never lend such a book to a student.”

“But he did.”

Umbridge seemed to take a moment to look at him. Harry sat back in the chair with his arms crossed and his jaw tight. There wasn’t anything he could do except tell the truth. He wondered if he could have Thomason write a note explaining that Harry didn’t steal from his personal library. Glancing around the room he could see everyone whispering behind their hands to each other. Harry spared a thought to wondering if this was going to be a new rumor, that not only was he a nutter, but he stole too.

“Well,” Umbridge started in a quiet tone, nearly towering over Harry with how far she was now leaning over the desk “were there any witnesses to prove he did?”

“No, it was” -but Harry didn’t get to finished before a fat, ring covered finger was shoved in his face.

“Thief,” Umbridge practically shouted with a manic like grin across her face. One of her perfect curls came down across her forehead in her vigor to point at him. “I will be returning this book to the proper owner after class. Detention for a week, for not only lying in my class, but thieving.”

Her eyes contacted with Harry's livid ones. Harry felt his teeth were almost breaking under the strain of him clenching his jaw tight. The heat from every stare in the classroom was almost sweltering. He wasn’t sure how he managed it, but Harry kept his mouth shut for a full minute as the two of them eyed one another. Umbridge smiled.

"Once you learn the root of someone's problems, you can easily solve them in a manner befitting of their manner," She said, never breaking contact with Harry. "I'm sure you will all agree when my rules are seen throughout the school instead of confined to a classroom."

The reactions were immediate. Hands shot into the air, while students began to mumble to each other.

"What do you mean?"

"Is the Ministry taking over?"

"What will happen to our classes?"

"ENOUGH!" Umbridge shouted with her face tinted red from anger. She seemed to grasp herself again, straightening her shirt a bit before addressing the class in a leveled voice. "I will be doing what this school needs. Firm action."

She turned to the board, which Harry had just noticed has something new written onto it.

_The Three 'P's_

_Perfectly Productive Professors_

"This is what I am talking about," Umbridge said, pointing a thick finger to the board. "The school's standards are failing and I will see to it that all the classrooms are maintained in a way that is safe and Ministry approved. Not only that but this school is lacking by far in disciplinary actions.” She glanced at Harry. “Students are stealing from Professors after all."

"So you're going to fire all the good Professors then," Harry spat out before he could stop himself.

"Hand UP if you wish to ask a question," Umbridge said, stepping closer to Harry. Her body was stiff with anger and her toad-like face was twitching with fury though she still answered his inquiry. "I will merely see to it that all the Professors are teaching you what you ought to be taught."

"Yeah, nothing," Harry fumed. His hand clenched, begging for his wand to be there and be used against this revolting woman. It seemed Umbridge had sensed something and had pointed her stubby wand straight at his chest with blazing eyes.

"You will NOT disrespect me in my classroom Mr. Potter," she squeaked out with laced anger.

"What are you going to do? Curse me?" Harry asked, glaring at her. "I'm sure you can't do any worse than Voldemort."

"You will spend the rest of the day, in that corner, away from the class," She said, pointing to the far corner of the room near the empty bookshelf. "It's best if the infection is cut out before it spreads to the whole limb."

Harry nearly gave into his urge of diving over the table and choking her. Instead, he took a very deep, single breath. He held it for a second and then stood up. Without any fanfare, he walked over to the corner of the room. Honestly, he had much worse punishments from the Dursely’s than standing in the corner. He could do this.

"Face the wall, Mr. Potter," she said, feeling the power of authority again.

Harry turned around and felt his cheeks warm. He swore to himself that he would somehow get back at the horrid woman.

"Now, let me explain the system of the Three Ps to all of you," Umbridge began, ignoring Harry's presence in the corner.

"This system was made for one true purpose. To weed out the Professors who would teach you dangerous things that would harm young children such at yourselves. By following this simple guideline, your Professors will be able to teach in a manner for fitting of your education and the upcoming O.W.L.s this year.” Her voice drifted around the room. “If the Professors do not teach you in a manner that is not only approved by the Ministry but is declared dangerous to your wellbeing, then they must be replaced."

Harry could hear the whispering in the classroom and could almost see his friends' faces as they heard this news. He felt his fists clench and his nails were almost biting into his skin.

"I'm sure you will all see how my system works within the next week as the new rules are given to this undisciplined School," Umbridge stood with her shoulders straightened in front of the class. She had a smile on her face and her expression was very smug. “Hogwarts is going to start changing for the better.”

Harry highly doubted that as he stared at the corner silently wondering how he was going to explain more detentions to Angelina without getting yelled at.


	6. Monster Mints

It turned out that it wasn’t possible. Harry had to let Angelina yell at him for a few minutes in the Great Hall much to Harry’s embarrassment before Madam Hooch came marching up to them. They both were told off and points taken away from Gryffindor for it. Harry watched as even more of the dwindling rupees disappeared before flinging himself onto the bench beside Ron.

Ron sympathetically tipped some bacon onto Harry’s plate. Harry wrapped his hand which has started bleeding again this morning and bit angrily at his offered bacon.  

That day many of the Teachers were getting their inspections back. The first person to get their review was Trelawney.

"Do you think someone ever cried that much before?" Ron asked, looking at the red eyed Trelawney who seemed to be drinking this morning at the staff table. A few of the other staff members were trying to console her, but it seemed to have little effect.

"Well," Harry reflected. "Maybe Myrtle has."

Harry tried to sympathize about seeing a teacher break down into tears, but he couldn't quite feel horrible about Trelawney getting a bad review. He was sure of it when Umbridge declared that she would be inspecting the teachers that Trelawney wouldn't do so well. It was an almost given by this point for the old fraud. Harry just counted himself lucky that he could hold his tongue around that woman this time. If only because she did not talk directly to him that is.

His hand was still throbbing from last night's detention.

Harry and Ron walked up towards the tower trying to discuss which Teacher would become the next person to suffer under Umbridge's scrutiny.

"I wish McGonagall was here," Ron said with a smile, staring up at the ceilings in thought. "Can you imagine how she would react; knowing old toad face was going to be sitting in her classroom?"

"That would be brilliant," Harry grinned in return.

Harry could imagine McGonagall during an inspection. The older woman was a hard shell and would not sway to anything. He was sure that McGonagall would be the only true Teacher to stand up to Umbridge without even needing to act any differently. It was one of the many things Harry was discovering he missed about Hogwarts. He never thought there would be a day where he missed McGonagall’s severe nature.

"When and if McGonagall _ever_ comes back, we'll find out," Harry said bitterly.

Ron looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. He knew how Harry felt, but he didn't know what to say to make him feel any better about it. So, he stayed quiet and walked alongside him. They continued to the tower and worked on their homework before class.

The next day at breakfast, Harry snapped the book titled _Walking through the Unknown_ closed. After Umbridge had snatched his other book, he figured he could start on the other one. It was a strange book dealing with a wizard who believed in multiple universes. Much of it went over Harry’s head but he at least found it interesting when it talked about time magic as well. During his third year, Hermione and him did travel back in time. Reading that others have done so but with catastrophe results made Harry feel lucky he had Hermione with him. He wasn’t sure he could have done it without her help. Especially since he just finished the chapter in the book where the Wizard was describing almost causing a war with the giants.

He also began to wonder what happened to the pixie the Wizard had sent to another timeline and if he was ever able to get the pixie back.

"Are you finally done with that mate?" Ron asked, grabbing some eggs.

"Yeah, just finished the third chapter," Harry said, sitting back. He didn't feel very hungry at the moment.

"That's good," Ron commented through his breakfast. "I was beginning to think you would do a Hermione on me and hide yourself in a book for the rest of the school year."

"I don't think I have the attention span for that," Harry answered with a bit of a smile.

"Do you think she'll ever leave the library today?" Ron questioned. "I need her help with my potion's essay."

"Is that all I'm good for?" Hermione questioned, dropping a large pile of books onto the table. Harry and Ron jumped at the loud sound.

"No, no of course not," Ron stammered. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course not," Hermione said as though it was oblivious. Though, she didn't look Ron in the eyes. "You'll never guess who I saw in the library today."

"Crabbe?" Ron asked with a smile.

"Goyle?" Harry added.

"Honestly you two," Hermione rolled her eyes but was still smiling. "I saw Professor Thomason there."

"What was he doing there?" asked Harry.

"Don't know," Hermione answered, but her smile widened. "But, look what he gave me!"

Ron and Harry stared at the pile of books on the table. Each was clearly older than all three of them combined. Harry tried to read a few of the titles, but they looked like they were written in another language.

"What are they?" Ron asked, nibbling on his toast.

"These are extremely rare and old books!" Hermione exclaimed, almost bouncing in her seat with joy. "All of these are the original copy as well as worth their weight in gallons!"

Ron whispered to Harry, "Who would pay that much for some rutty old book?"

"This one," Hermione pulled the top one off, completely oblivious that neither one of them were truly interested. The title looked like something from an Egyptian tomb. "Is all about the discovery of time and how the past affects the future."

"Who would know when time began?" Ron asked, waving his hand at the dust that had come off the book. "There wasn't a bloke just standing about when it started."

"It's more about the theories behind the creation of it, not the actual history," Hermione spoke with practiced authority. "No one knows how time really started nor do they know how it all came to be. But history can tell us about the cycles."

Harry began to drift off after that. Hermione kept naming all the books and giving a vague summary of what they were about, while Ron and Harry kept giving each other pained glances. Harry hadn't heard Hermione be so excited about something since she found out she could take twice as many classes as everyone else.

"… and this one is about quantum fluctuations," Hermione ended her long speech about each of them. There were eight in total, each thicker than Harry's forearm. She sat down and smiled at the huge pile of books in front of her. "To think he had scientific books in his collection as well."

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "What are you on about? What's 'scientific'?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. Of course, Ron wouldn't understand what science was since he was raised in the wizard world. Science was something only Muggles did apparently; among other things like surgery. A subject Harry and Hermione had sworn to never bring up again least Ron lose his lunch.

"Well," Hermione started. "It's something muggles do to try to explain the way the world works. Muggle learn maths and use them to figure out the distance between atoms, which of course lets them know a long list of things."

Ron looked even more confused.

After a half hour of trying to explain to Ron the meaning of science and how everything is made from energy called atoms, they gave up. It seemed to have only frightened him to think that a billion different kinds of little specks made up his whole body. It only became worse when Hermione tried to explain that atoms can separate and then Ron squeezed his arms around himself in fear.

When all the books were put away safely in the common room, Ron and Harry left to the grounds for their day off. Hermione stayed behind to start reading one of the many books Thomason had left in her care.

The day was bright and sunny for once. There was a gentle breeze kicking up out of the west bringing in the cool from the distant ocean. Students were scattered about in the grass, many laying out to sunbathe, and a few studying together under one of the many trees dotting the field.

Once they made their way down at the lakeside, they saw Neville, Ginny, and the twins first. It seemed a crowd had formed around the twins, as per usual this year. The Twins were gesturing wildly as they proclaimed what some of their experimental candies would do. Harry was glad Hermione was stuck up in the Gryffindor tower or else she would be telling them off for trying to sell of their wares. They at least seemed to stop getting first years to try out their new stuff after the last time Hermione yelled at them.

Harry and Ron came closer to the crowd and were finally able to hear what was going on. Fred and George were trying to show the crowd something new they had come up with. It looked like a peppermint candy but with blue stripes instead of red. It was about the same size as a walnut and looked to be as hard as one too.

"What's that?" Ron asked over the crowd, leaning over many of the first and second years that had gathered around.

"Come by to check out the merchandise, eh?" Fred asked with a smile.

"Didn't know a Prefect would be interested." George continued.

"I always thought Prefects kept to the rules and such," Fred replied.

Ron's ears turned red. "Just tell me what it is."

"Yeah," Harry said. "What you got there?"

After a few others begged from the small crowd around them Fred stood up. He held it up so everyone could see, and cleared his throat out.

"This, my fellow mates, is a rare treat we call Monster Mint," Fred announced. "It can turn into any little creature you'd like. But it only lasts for a minute. All you have to do, is say the word and then the magical creature you want it to be. George?"

" _Reformabit_ Dragon!" George said holding his own, and the walnut sized invention made a popping noise. A small cloud of sparks appeared around George’s outstretched hand. When it cleared away, a tiny green scaled dragon stood there baring his teeth, and already trying to set the nearest head on fire. It reminded Harry very strongly for the dragons in his Fourth year they pulled out of the bags.

The crowd was cheering and chattering about the little creature as it huffed a puff of smoke out at a first year who tried to poke it.

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "Where'd you come up with that thing?"

Fred and George exchanged grins.

"Since Professor Thomason lent us a book on Word Transfiguration," George answered.

"I didn't like him at first, but he grows on you," Fred said with a smile as he poked the pocket-sized dragon causing it to snap at his finger.

"The dragon or the professor?" asked a voice from behind them. A few of the students laughed at the question. Harry didn't, only because he recognized the voice right away.

Standing as though he were observing his garden was Professor Thomason. A small little smile was playing on his lips and he locked eyes with Harry for a few moments before turning to the twins who stood at the center of the crowd. All the laughter died down within a few seconds when everyone noticed who had asked the question.

"Now, now," Thomason began as he strolled through the middle of the crowd. "Don't mind your Professor any bit. Everyone must have a sense of humor."

“Afternoon Professor,” Fred said with a smile. Harry noticed he seemed to have pocketed his own Monster Mint.

Thomason nodded to him and looked over the dragon in George’s hand. “May I?” he questioned, holding out his hand.

“Be my guest,” George answered, turning his hand slightly so the little thing crawled into Thomason’s hand.

The whole crowd grew quiet as he inspected the Twin’s Monster Mint dragon. Thomason looked it over, holding it up and poking at it like Fred was doing. The only difference was, he was gentle and the dragon didn’t seem to mind his prodding. Thomason blew on the dragon’s face, causing it to release its wings at a full span and flapping against the sudden wind.

“It reacts to its environment,” Thomason said, his forefinger rubbing against the dragon’s cheek like it was a kitten. It seemed to have been charmed by the Professor because it rolled over, allowing him to continue. “And is rather responsive. This is possibly one of the best Word Transfigurations I have ever seen. Well done.”

“Thanks Professor,” the twins chorused, both grinning at the compliment they received.

“I think… ten points apiece should do it for this clever bit of magic,” Thomason said, watching as the dragon curled up, and turned back into a walnut sized mint again with a _pop_.

The Gryffindors in the crowd cheered and even some of the others gave some polite clapping. Thomason handed the mint back to the twins.

“If you have any difficulties with future products, my office is always open,” Thomason said, smiling at the twins. He moved away as a few of the first years ganged up on the twins demanding to own one of the Monster Mints, a few of them waving money around.

Thomason smiled, that small nervous way he usually did, and passed by Harry. He looked over his shoulder when he reached the edge of the group and called back.

"Oh, before I forget a piece of advice for your future sales,” he started, his eyes on the twins. “Inside the castle is where prying eyes and ears can't reach as easily." With that, he strolled back towards the castle, leaving all the students to just stare at him.

“Well, that was grim,” Fred said, still grinning though. “So, who wants another demonstration?”

The crowd began to cheer once more. A couple of pops were heard and several different creatures started to spring into the twins’ hands. Harry was sure he saw a bowtruckle on George’s head at some point. It seemed the twins were going to be making plenty of money off this new invention as people were already waving coins around to buy them. The demonstration continued and a bowtruckle grabbed one of the gallons from a student and returned it to George’s hand, which earned them another round of applause.  

"What do you think Thomason meant by that?" Ron asked.

"I think he means to do everything more secretly," Dean said from beside Ron.

"What have we got to hide?" Harry question.

"What do you have to hide indeed," came a sweetly reply. Harry could feel his insides quiver at her voice as she stared at the students with that curled smile. A few pops were heard from near the twins but due to the crowd surrounding them, they weren’t seen from where they were standing. By the time Umbridge made her way to the center, Fred and George were grinning at each other and suspiciously void of any pocket-sized magical creatures or candies.

"Just a cold I seem to be getting," Fred replied, covering his mouth as he faked a few coughs. Harry could see Fred chewing something. A few seconds later, the whole crowd of students saw what the Weasley twin had eaten earlier.

A few girls made sounds at the vomit before backing away while. Umbridge practically leaped away from the twins as Fred gagged once more.

"Seems like everyone's catching the sickness," George replied with mock concern and a barely concealed smile. He put a hand across his forehead dramatically. "I hope you don't catch it, being this close to a whole group of sick children Professor."

Umbridge's eyebrows almost vanished behind her mousy brown hair.

"Y-you're quite right!" She said quickly. "Off to the wing with you lot!"

The students quickly walked off to the castle to get away from the horrible toad. Harry hurried along with the group to get away from Umbridge as quickly as he could. His afternoon was already ruined by her showing up.

Fred took up the rear of the group as he was having more trouble because he kept vomiting every few steps. Though he seemed to enjoy it a bit because he kept trying to land it on the trailing cloaks of the younger students. A few of them threatened to hex him if he didn’t stop, and the group of Hufflepuff girls let out shrieks when he got too close to them.

Once out of sight of Umbridge, George handed the other piece of the candy over to his twin. Fred somehow gulped it down between vomits and promptly stopped. He grinned at the amazed onlookers who were following them in.

"And to think, it's only 2 sickles a pop!"

The crowd went wild again.


	7. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story, please add Kudos and/or review. I live for the theories on who Thomason is, and I hope when it's revealed, all of you tell me your reactions!

The last week had been cluttered with homework once more. Classes were starting to pick up and Harry only had one more detention with Umbridge to complete before his evenings were free once more. He stayed silent the whole time even when she tried to goad him. He simply remembered how much he wanted to practice Quidditch again and that kept his mouth pinched shut.

He sat down below the tree by the lake, happy to have a few moments of peace to himself. Between all of his detentions with Umbridge and the homework, Harry was beginning to think it would be easier to deal with another plot for his death by Voldemort. He at least didn't have to remember which root from a certain plant made the required nectar to make a potion to fight.

He still had issues calming his temper around Umbridge but it was getting better. At least Harry thought so.

That was before Professor Thomason had given him another detention for mouthing off, but this time in the hallway. Harry was complaining to Ron about Umbridge when Professor Thomason had swooped in behind them to overhear Harry's gripping.

During the detention Thomason made Harry dust out his office as punishment with a feather duster. Harry had to stifle a few sneezes as he went but it wasn't bad. He was just grateful he didn't lose any house points.

Just before leaving at the end, Thomason put a hesitant hand on Harry's shoulder. He seemed to look extremely relieved after a few seconds of seeing his hand there. Before Harry could ask why, Thomason began to speak.

"You mustn't let people's words effect you so," He said, not quite making eye contact. "Just remember, they do not affect your life and you can easily brush them away."

"Sticks and stones professor?" Harry questioned a little more harshly than he meant to.

Thomason had smiled, removing his hand from Harry's shoulder.

"You could say that, but I prefer thinking those people who are not close friends, their opinions do not matter," Thomason explained.

Thomason gave Harry a little push out the door, saying it was far past detention time. Harry had the strangest feeling about asking if Thomason knew about the Order when he was suddenly face to face with a door.

He supposed he should ignore Umbridge but he just couldn't stand it when she did that annoying coughing though! Every class she sat in, she lurked. It made Harry's blood boil.

He threw his hands up in frustration and leaned against the trunk of the tree. The breeze was nice outside now that the classes were through. How Harry wanted to feel the wind in the air.

He frowned. If only his broomstick wasn't locked up until practice.

'I wish Sirius was here,' Harry thought, staring up at the sky.

Harry looked around and saw the rest of the students who had this period free too were going back inside. Distant clouds rumbled and threatened to bring in rain on the otherwise sunny day. He sighed and gathered his bag.

When the classes were done and dinner time was finally around, Harry's spirits seemed to be lifted a bit. Ron and Hermione were filling him in on a few of the other teacher's sit-ins with Umbridge. Though, none of them were surprised Binns didn't have a sit-in yet.

Harry seriously doubted even Umbridge could write something bad about him. Other than the fact that none of his students can stay awake through a whole lesson but he doubted she actually cared about that. She would probably be pleased that they were learning even less without any help from her.

"And then Peeves knocked over a suit of armor, nearly hitting her!" Ron exclaimed, laughing.

Harry blinked, trying to remember that he was supposed to be listening. He figured by the way everyone was laughing; the 'her' had to be Umbridge. He even joined in with genuine laughter.

Harry looked up at the Teacher's table, seeing the same scene that has been playing out since the start of school. All the other Teacher's refused to sit near Umbridge but Thomason and Dumbledore. They seemed immune to her.  Any time Harry looked up, usually Thomason was either talking or listening to the old toad talk. Harry found it lucky sometimes because when Thomason wasn’t entertaining her, she would hover over the students like a vulture. They were quite lucky that Thomason was always heading her off, as though on purpose. Just as Umbridge giggled in that sickening way she normally did, at a joke Thomason no doubt told her, a thought occurred to Harry.

"Hey," Harry questioned, cutting Hermione's homework reminder short. "Has anyone seen Umbridge sit in with Thomason's lesson yet?"

"Now that you mention it," Ron started, tapping a finger to his temple. "I don't remember a single lesson with her there for his class."

They looked across to Ginny and Neville.

"Not me," Neville stated, shaking his head already.

"Me neither," Ginny answered. Then she looked over at the twins who were huddle together. She tossed a bread roll at them "Oi."

They both looked up in slight alarm at them. "What?" They asked in unison.

"Did Umbridge sit in on Thomason with you lot?" Ginn questioned. Both twins shook their heads.

"Not us. Maybe with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff classes?" Fred suggested, now seemingly interested. Him and George raised eyebrows at each other.

Fred poked at a first year that no doubt was one of the testers the twins had employed for their skives and asked if they had a sit in. When they shook their head, they continued to ask the other years. When they had asked around the Gryffindor table, it seemed no one from any year could remember Thomason having a sit in with Umbridge. Fred got a determined look on his face as he turned to Ginny.

"Ginny, can you ask the Ravenclaws, and we'll take the Hufflepuffs," said Fred, already heading to a group of Hufflepuff girls. Ginny huffed but got up and went to the Ravenclaw table.

They all began asking each other down the table, starting a wild fire like conversation that went across tables. Harry looked around and everyone's face seemed to be confused. It seemed not a single person had a lesson with Thomason and an Umbridge sit-in. When Fred, George, and Ginny returned a few minutes later, their suspicions were confirmed. Not a single class had a sit in with Umbridge.

If Harry never questioned Thomason's ties to the ministry, he certainly did now.

"Don't you think it's strange that he's the only one who hasn't been sat in on?" Harry questioned around when everyone huddle closer.

"That is strange," Hermione whispered. "You would think he would be one of the first people, seeing as how he's clearly teaching us things the Ministry doesn't want us to know."

"You think turning your own body into an animal would cause more attention," Ron said through his dinner.

"He somehow got himself out of Umbridge's sight," Fred said in slight awe, looking up at the nervous Professor that seemed oblivious to the conversation happening about him. “I’m starting to like him more every week.”

“Wish he would tell us what he does to keep her off his neck,” George commented, also staring at the Professor in awe.

“Well, it won’t last for long if we keep drawing attention to it,” Hermione said, snapping her book closed, making everyone jump slightly. “Besides, I think it could be that he’s just actually being nice to her.”

“Nah,” Fred started, his face screwing up in disgust. “I bet he’s using an Unforgivable on her. Got her under a curse or something. He seems powerful enough.”

“Or a potion?” Ron asked with his eyebrows raised and turning to look at Thomason, then back to the group quickly.

“He’s not cursing her and she’s not under the effects of a potion,” huffed Hermione, glancing between everyone. “One of these days all of you will learn the side effects of curses and potions.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath on that one,” said Fred, getting up with a smile. He grabbed a bread roll from the plate and shoved it into his mouth. George let out a snicker as he got up to join his twin. Both strolled out of the Great Hall with a trailing group of first years, most likely hoping for more demonstrations.

After the twins had disappeared out of the hall, Harry began to drift into his own thoughts again as he stared up at the Teacher's table. Something wasn't right about this. He was sure about it.

After dinner was all done and Harry made his way back up to the dorm by himself. Hermione and Ron, through many apologies, had to do perfect duties. It didn’t bother Harry like usual because it was better if he went through with his plans by himself. He didn’t need Hermione to tell him he was just being paranoid, or Ron trying to pick sides. He went straight into his trunk and dug out his father's cloak. He was going to get to the bottom of this mystery tonight.

He ran his fingers over the material, before folding it up so he could hide it. The only problem he might encounter is running into a patrolling teacher. That was what the marauders' map was for. He carefully folded that up as well inside of the magic material of the cloak. He tucked the cloak with the map under his shirt and went into the common room. All he had to do now was to wait until everyone else was asleep and then he would sneak out. Though, Harry had no idea where he was going to do. Other than maybe digging through Thomason's things and trying to find some evidence. He hoped that Thomason left some letters lying around that Harry might spot.

He soon found out that waiting in the common room by himself, when half the class thought he was crazy, was rather boring. He could only watch others doing homework for so long before sleep would start tugging. He pulled out his own books and stared at the parchment in front of him. He was nervous about his trip to the Professor’s office, so he couldn’t concentrate on his work. Instead, he rested his head in his hand as he waited. After what felt like hours, he drifted off into an unpleasant sleep.

It was dark in the room. The whole area smelled like dust, and it made Harry's nose itch. He couldn't sneeze though, since he felt as those he wasn't in control of his own body. He could still see a flickering light dance across the curtained walls and glinting cobwebs caught his eye. Books that looks like they hadn’t been touched in decades sat on sagging shelves and a ratty old chair that had surely seen better days rested in front of him. His head suddenly turned to his left where someone waiting, wearing a dark shroud to cover their face.

Harry realized that this wasn't like his usual nightmare of seeing the corridor room. This was like the dreams he had during his fourth year, in which he would see what Voldemort saw.

Without thought, Harry's mouth opened and spoke. Instead of hearing that cold, high voice that Harry expected, it was lower… almost… _silky._

"I think it's getting closer to the point in which he must find out. I’m not sure if I can stave off their curiosity for much longer. I’m decent at putting people off track but I’m not a miracle worker."

The other person, who was bathed in shadow, shook their head. Other than the small movement, they didn’t move or speak.

A prickle of irritation started in pit of his stomach. Harry sighed, bringing a hand to his brow and rubbing it. "You know I don't like this. I’ve sat on the side lines for far too long, letting others play this dangerous game you have going on."

The stranger merely shook his head again, holding up their hand this time. Harry could feel the anger swell inside of him and the scar on his forehead ached. A deep breath was immediately taken in from his nose. Harry could feel almost a conscious wave of calm fall over himself. The anger receded as quickly as it had come on and his scar once again dulled down as though no pain had ever occurred.

"What else would you have me do?" Harry asked calmly this time, his hands folding in front of him in a very familiar gesture. "I am happy to continue this path you have lead me down, but I would like to ability to make decisions on my own without needing heavy discussion.”

The stranger in the chair remained silent for a beat, before the warm voice Harry instantly recognized as Dumbledore drifted in.

“What do you purpose?”

If Harry was in his own body, he may have screamed, or fainted in shock. That crocked nose popped out slightly from under the hood, removing almost all doubt from Harry’s mind that this was a trick. Now that he was paying attention, he could see the flickering light dancing in his half-moon spectacles. The silver embroidery in the otherwise dark cloak was finally visible as Dumbledore leaned slightly in.

“Being so close to someone who could unravel everything we have worked so hard to keep secret for the past two years is just plain foolishness," Harry began, his head tilting slightly before a sigh released from his lips. “Unless you wanted him to find out sooner or later. If that is the case, I wish to tell the boy before he finds out in some other way, and that would be quite disastrous.”

“I had hopes it wouldn’t come to a decision between what would be safe for Harry and what would be safe for you. It is my own arrogance that put you in this place, I beg your forgiveness,” Dumbledore bowed his head slightly and Harry could easily imagine that sad look that crosses his face sometimes.

“You have my forgiveness and more,” Harry said instantly, waving it away. Harry could feel how much he cared about Dumbledore swelling up in his chest. Harry was sure there was no way he could ever hate him in this moment. They seemed to take in these words for a few moments. Dumbledore brought his own hands together in thought.

“I do not think it is quite time for that.”

"I do not agree with your decision to keep quiet when all can be explained," Harry asked, his fingers reaching out to the back of the chair in front of him. He set his hands on the old, velvet covered chair, and gripped it. "I understand your logic of course. He could easily misunderstand what you almost misunderstood."

Just then, a burst of flame appeared between the two. Harry didn’t jerk back, almost like he was expecting such an interruption. The flash of fire brought Dumbledore’s face into perfect clarity for a second. Harry never thought he had seen his face appear so grim.

Without any words, Harry waved his hand for dismissal. He turned away from Dumbledore, and began walking away towards a door barely visible below a stoned archway. Just as he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder.

"I did think you had more faith in him. I hope you’ll trust in his good heart as I do."

Dumbledore flinched like he had been struck. Neither of them moved for several moments and Harry felt a strong urge to reach out to Dumbledore, to tell him he didn’t mean his sharp words. When he felt his lips part, almost apologizing for the sharp words, Dumbledore responded.

 "Do what you think is right," he sounded wary and for once, like his age. “I can ask no more of you than that.”

Harry took a breath again, feeling a slight clench in his chest at Dumbledore’s words. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out, but instead his steeled himself. Harry walked to the door of the room and exited. The trip down a very familiar hallway in Hogwarts was almost welcomed if Harry didn’t feel a sense of dread start up from the bottom of his spine. He strolled into another room with a fireplace. With a flick of his wrist, a fire burst to life within the hearth. He leaned against the mantle and felt his lips smile.

"Do what I think is right," he repeated to himself. "He should have asked for something simpler."

This person is not Voldemort, Harry thought suddenly. This couldn't be him. The person was not cruel nor would Dumbledore talk so calmly to Voldemort; Harry was sure of this. From the corner of his eye, he could make out the lightly tanned skin of his hands when they came into view. Voldemort was pale, snakelike. Whoever Harry was currently part of, could not be Voldemort. At least, not the Voldemort Harry had seen climbing out of the cauldron before summer.

Yet, the cold feeling in his body told him he wasn't too far off.

If Harry was in his own body, the hairs on the back of his neck would be standing on end. Harry had the distinct feeling he was being watched, and not as the person he was currently part of. It felt as though the person he was inside of, knew he was there suddenly. It was a sensation like being caught in hiding in the shadows by someone Harry didn’t even know he should be hiding from.

It was only confirmed when that silky voice spoke again.

"Wake up Mr. Potter."

With that, Harry woke with a start as though his body had been doused with ice cold water, and he fell out of the chair he was in. He barely registered that his head hit the floor below before he bolted into a standing position. The sweat that broke out across his whole body was making his clothes stick to him comfortably and his heart beating against his rib cage did little to settle his nerves.

He looked through his fogged-up glasses around the room and noticed not a single other person was around. He doubted that would last for long as his chair smacking the stone was sure to draw attention. He didn't waste a second before pulling out the cloak from under his shirt, and throwing over himself. Harry rustled out the map and took off running to the third floor scaring the Fat Lady as he went since all she could see was a pair of feet racing across the stones.

Harry barely took glances at the map to make sure no Teacher was stalking the halls before continuing his journey, wondering why the sense of dread from his dream clung to him tighter than his sweat soaked shirt.


	8. And the Truth Will Set You Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! Now that we know who Thomason is, please tell me what your reaction was. Should Harry trust him or not?

 

Harry put his hands on his knees to take some deep breaths. It was at this time that he thought to look around as he knew he shouldn't be out of the tower at this time especially with Umbridge sticking her nose out at night not to mention Mrs. Norris who always seemed to pop up when least expected. He listened carefully for any footsteps or sounds of anyone approaching before bringing out the map.

Harry whispered the words to bring it to life as he inspected it under a faint glow. Luckily it appeared he was safe on this floor for now. Glancing around one more final time showed even the portraits were sleeping though the Merwyn the Malicious did pull his night cap down his face as Harry had raced by.

Harry slowly crept the rest of the way down the hall towards the Professor's office. Now that his heart had stopped beating like a drum against his rib cage he was finally feeling a bit foolhardy rushing to get down here. He edged near the door and tucked away the map in case he had to use both hands. Before he even turned the handle he whispered 'alohomora'. With a soft click the door opened.

He peered inside, keeping his wand at the ready. The sweat from the dream had cooled on the back of his neck causing gooseflesh to rise and the hairs to stand. The room was seemingly empty with the vast majority of it being in darkness. Harry slowly closed the door and walked a few paces in. Before he could even reach far enough that he would have to remember where the book stacks were the torches sprung to life. Harry jumped as the once dark room was cast in a fire glow.

Harry took a step back, his heel pressing against the now closed door and the handle digging into his back through the invisibility cloak. He whipped his head around attempting to see if the Professor showed up at the light, holding his breath to listen to footsteps.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry slowly let his breath out through the scant gap in his lips. He slowly walked forward towards the desk in the center of the room now grateful for the horrible red rug beneath his shoes as they softened the sound of his footsteps. He lowered his wand and began looking through the desk's contents.

Many of the scrolls contained various lesson plans and Harry was slightly amused when he found a list of students with notes next to their names in neat cursive.

  1. _Granger – Always ask her the difficult questions_
  2. _Bell – Needs to be pushed to achieve more. Quidditch is good motivation_
  3. _Davies – Works well with shy students_
  4. _McLaggen – Keep an eye on him and do not allow him to answer questions_
  5. _Finnigan – Watch out for explosions with this one_



Harry felt his smile tug up at the list, as he placed it down not bothering to read the rest. He shifted through a few more papers, not sure what he was really looking for. Prior to the dream he felt that coming here to look for proof that the Professor was either working with the Ministry or part of the Order was a good idea. Now that he was here, and after the dream that still sent a shiver down his spine when he lingered on it, he felt maybe this was a big mistake.

He turned and walked through the Office, browsing at the books now shelved. When he came to a darker part and saw where Fluffy's hind end used to be, was an archway. Harry clutched his cloak tighter around himself and crept in.

Unlike the Office, the hallway was narrow and very dark. Soon the torches' light ceased to reach and a smaller glow ahead appeared. Harry halted and listened. A small candle was lit at the end next to a door.

"This must be his personal room," Harry thought. He wondered if the Professor was asleep in there or out. Harry didn't know why but he felt like no one was in there. His hand lingered over the knob.

Suddenly the door to the office opened behind Harry. Without thinking Harry opened the door in front of him and slide inside. He gently closed it and backed away facing the door. His heart started hammering as he waited.

Voices drifted from the Office into the bedroom.

"Are you quite sure?" asked the sickening girlish voice.

"I am," replied the silky voice. "It would be so unfair to the other teachers if you don't sit in my class at least once."

"Oh well," she began and Harry could imagine that stupid flustered look Umbridge gave whenever Thomason would pay her attention. "I think I already know you're teaching the best way for the children. You've shown you have the intelligence the Ministry wants in this school."

"You flatter me so," he responded, sounding almost warm. "I will trust your judgement but if you should need to sit in, please do so. I'm sure it wouldn't be too disruptive but I cannot guarantee I teach as high as your standards."

Sharp girly giggling was heard and if it wasn't for the fear of being caught, Harry would be gagging. He heard a rustle of fabric thankfully still very close to the Office entry.

"I still can't believe you only teach at this school and before that I haven't heard of your name. You should be in the Ministry. We could use someone like you to replace the fools," said Umbridge with a sneer at the end. Harry wasn't sure he ever heard her sound like this. He was reminded of Aunt Petunia when she used to remark at him to not burn the bacon. "You really ought to try out for a position. I could help you. I know the Minister personally."

"I couldn't ask that of you," he replied, now closer to where Harry figured his desk would be. Shuffling could be heard and then clinking of spoons against cups. "I couldn't imagine a position I would be fitted for, being a man without notable record."

"Oh, you would be fantastic in my department," with the girlish voice coming now near the desk as well. "I'm sure I could find you better pay at the very least."

"I'll tell you what," the cup gently clipped the desk as it was set down. "This position as teacher is temporary. If I am not employed at the end of the year, I'll be ever so grateful to you if I got an interview for the Ministry," his silky voice dropped a slight octave. "I can hardly think of a way to thank you if you should."

Again, the shrill giggling started and a clank of a cup being hastily put down was heard. In the most flustered voice Harry had ever heard she replied, "Well… I… I should hope tea again?"

"For you, of course," came a much calmer voice and the quiet sound of a sip. "Dear me, it is quite late. Do you need me to walk you to your personal rooms? I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help as I still get so lost in this place though."

"Oh!" suddenly very alert yet no less flustered. "I wouldn't want to put you out, you do so much and have an early class. I'll walk myself out I think. I should do another round in case children are out."

He hummed in approval. "Best to do another round. You never know when these children sneak out at night. I hear the dungeons during these times are notorious for having night walkers."

"Really? Then I shall start there," the cup was placed back down, and her stubby legs could be heard as she practically ran to the door. "Have a pleasant night, Magnus."

"You too, Dolores," he answered, setting his cup back down as well.

The click of a door shutting echoed quite loudly in the otherwise still room. Harry heard a deep sigh and the sound of a body dropping into a chair. Harry could imagine Thomason rubbing his temples at that moment. Harry debated on how exactly to get out of the bedroom now that the Professor had come back.

He glanced around the room for the first time now that his heart stopped beating hard against his ribs. The room was simple with a double bed like the dorms and a single arched window that spilled moonlight in cascading the room in faint white. There were more books scattered around with two on the bed, another on the nightstand with a candle holder on top. Beside that an ink well with quills and parchment scrolls. A solitary chest was at the end of the bed with cloak fabric poking out of the side as though the contents were most likely caught when closing.

Harry walked a little further in, looking around at the small table with a wooden chair next to it. The wall by the table had pictures, notes, and bits of glittery rocks pinned to it. Harry couldn't see any way for all of it to be stuck and figured it must be spelled on. Due to the low light Harry couldn't make out much of what was written, but they all seemed to be some sort of equations and magic notes. Words like 'spell modification' and 'time' were bounced around, along with phrases Harry could hardly parse out.

Harry was so absorbed in trying to figure out the writing he didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late. He whirled under the cloak to watch as Thomason came in. With a wave of his hand the candle by the bed and one Harry didn't see by the table came to life. Fire sprung up and produced more light than it should have with a small flame. Harry found himself holding his breath again, half way thinking he would be spotted even though he was under the cloak. Thomason passed a look over the room and tilted his head ever so slightly in a smooth, rolling motion. Harry felt himself copy the movement almost without thought.

Thomason then paused and looked more thoroughly around the room seemingly stopping right at eye level with Harry. Harry froze looking straight back at him. It went on for a few beats before Thomason turned his eyes away.

Thomason walked over to the bed leaving the door wide open. Harry crept as quietly as he could, going towards the door. He carefully stepped over the books, making sure the cloak didn't drape over them so they wouldn't suddenly become invisible. He kept glancing back at Thomason making sure he didn't move from the bed. Thomason seemed to be very preoccupied by the parchment on his side table.

Harry was within reach of the door. Only a few seconds more and he would be across the first threshold.

"Is it too forward to ask if you'd like tea?" said Thomason not looking up from his notes.

Harry froze again and felt his heart drop into his stomach. He slowly turned around, but Thomason still didn't turn around.

"The notes on my desk had been moved and even though you were very careful, the cloak slipped over the chair slightly," he said, finally turning. Harry could see a small smile on his lips. "I can tell where you are now by the sounds of your shoes across the floor. You should think of investing in wool socks. They never make a sound on stone."

Harry felt the urge to run build up, and squashed it down. It wasn't the first time he had been caught by a teacher. He somehow doubted it would be the last time either if history was to be believed. He slowly brought down the cloak and revealed himself.

"I'm sorry Professor," Harry started, not sure where he was going with it.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Thomason responded, placing his notes carefully on his table. He held up his arm, aiming it towards the door. "If you will."

Harry walked out to the Office and sat down in the chair across the desk. He could feel his cheeks warm and the sweat bead on the back of his neck. He also found he had trouble trying to look the Professor in the eye.

"Now, would you like some tea?" Thomason asked, waving his hand and a new set of cups appeared with a kettle.

"Yes please," Harry responded, feeling he should just say yes to anything Thomason said at the moment, his face still warm.

Thomason clasped his hands together and the cups filled with hot tea. He handed Harry a cup and held sugar cubes up to be taken. Harry was nervous enough to shake his head, already feeling odd with his current cup. Though his shock started to ware off as he took his first sip of tea. Thomason sat back in his chair, quietly sipping his tea as well. Harry felt the questions burn in his throat as the silence grew.

Harry looked back up, almost half way through his tea and felt a crisp prickle of pins in his scar. A shiver ran down his spine and he was reminded of the dream he almost forgot. It felt like it was so long ago yet couldn't have been longer than an hour since he woke from it. Like most dreams it became fuzzier and harder to recall the longer Harry waited to think on it. Before any more could slip, he spoke up.

"Why were you and Umbridge together," Harry asked almost on impulse.

"Why do you think?" he countered, taking another sip. Thomason tipped his head slightly again, and Harry felt his heart jump.

"I don't know," he replied quickly and placed his cup down. "You sounded friendly to her."

"Did I?" Thomason replied with a sigh. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and seemed to wave his other hand almost like he was batting something away. "I apologize. I get caught up sometimes and forget myself."

Thomason placed his own cup down and made an aborted movement to refill his cup before folding his hands. He leaned forward and shook his head slightly. For the first time tonight, he finally seemed like the nervous Professor Harry had been spending weeks in class with.

"I know you understand a lot more about what is going on than the average student," Thomason began with a smooth tone. "I won't mince words with you if you promise me one thing."

Harry's brows creased together and he sat up straighter in his chair, now glad he put his cup down. "Why would I need to promise?"

"Because this is sensitive," and at this, he did pour himself another cup. A stray drop fell from the kettle and landed on a note, though Thomason didn't seem to notice. "It's information only Albus and myself are aware of completely and it's not for another's ears. However, I feel you are more involved in all this than anyone. You have a right to know."

Harry could distantly hear in his mind Hermione's voice declaring Thomason was in the Order. Harry swallowed and felt himself edge forward. It was one of the only times this year that anyone was willingly providing information to him! Harry felt the same amount of gratefulness warm his chest when Sirius spoke to him last.

"Then I promise," Harry added a nod with it. Thomason appeared to look him over once more, nodding his own approval.

"My job here isn't just a Teacher," he began, his voice growing quiet. "I have several things to attend to. The first being to make sure you in particular are learning more defensive magic so you are better equipped to fight."

"The advanced transfiguration lessons, you mean?" Harry answered, though not feeling as excited. This wasn't the kind of answer he was hoping for. Thomason didn't seem to see Harry deflate at that and pressed on.

"That is part of the reason I am so close to Umbridge. I know if she finds out I am teaching all of you advanced magics, I would be kicked out of here before the week is out," he stood up at this and began pacing behind the desk, hands clasped behind his back. "It is almost easy to sway her when need be but I find it distasteful. However, it is necessary in this case. When I was provided the task to teach, I wasn't expecting this position. I may be magically gifted, but I am hardly a decent teacher of the arts."

"You're a good Teacher," Harry answered, feeling honest. Thomason paused for a moment and looked at him, his eyes slightly wide.

"Thank you," he whispered in awe. Thomason looked down for a moment, shuffling his feet. "I thought myself a Teacher when I was younger but it was arrogance then. I saw the power Teachers had over the young and I wanted it. Now that I am older, and beyond the need for such petty behavior I find I am better than I would have been, but nowhere near my liking. I was an arrogant youth Mr. Potter, make no mistake. It's a crime I think I would share with any counterpart in any universe."

It didn't seem Harry could dispute this, but he did wonder where this was coming from. He felt the warmth of the tea still in his stomach help settle the butterflies there. It seemed he needed it though because when Thomason looked up again and their eyes met, that unpleasant shiver came again.

"I am here to teach you more than just advanced magics," he all but whispered, though instead of in awe, it was clipped. Thomason clenched his jaw for a moment. "On Dumbledore's request I am here to teach you about your enemy."

"My enemy? Voldemort?" Harry asked feeling the pit of his stomach drop. "You know about him?"

"Oh, Mr. Potter, I know a lot about him," Thomason said, his hand coming down his face, and his shoulders dropping slightly. "I fear I know more about him than anyone else. I am here to teach you as much as I can right under the Ministry's nose."

Harry felt his mind whirl in confusion. He never had any lessons with Thomason where he was taught anything about Voldemort. He also had detentions but those were only to sort through books and assist with random tasks such as cleaning. He never recounted a single lesson that could be useful unless Voldemort could be defeated with cleaning supplies.

Harry felt his shoulders tense. "Pardon me Professor but when are these lessons supposed to happen?"

Thomason's lipped pressed together. "They have been happening already, without even you knowing it."

Harry's nostrils flared. He felt the anger swell up in his stomach and almost had to swallow back the tea. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you know about me?" Thomason asked suddenly, leaning against his desk, crossing his arms.

"What do I…?" Harry trailed, his anger swirling with confusion now. Even without Thomas' head tilting, Harry felt his own do it, mocking the movement and pinched his lips before opening his mouth again. "You're a teacher here, you enjoy tea, and know how to do wandless magic."

Thomason nodded, rolling his hand at the wrist in a movement to tell Harry to continue.

"You can transform your skin into a snake's," he began, thinking back and still wondering what this all had to do with Voldemort. That shiver rose again and now it was harder to stop his shoulders from quaking this time with it. "You… You can manipulate people."

It felt like a rush across out of Harry at this moment.

"You seem nervous all the time, but that's because you don't like people looking at you. But, you use your looks to get people to trust you. You always know what to say to get people to follow you. Even on the first day of class, you got everyone to focus on you… you even have Umbridge in your pocket," Harry finished with his voice fading. He didn't intend for all of that to come out. He hardly realized he noticed all of this until it was already spilling from his mouth. He looked up, noticing Thomason being very still and added, "And apparently, you were arrogant when you were young though I can see why."

Thomason seemed to snort despite himself, a hand curling at his lips to hide a smile. "You learned a lot I think."

"Yes, but about you," Harry answered slowly, feeling like he was close to solving a puzzle he would rather not.

Thomason sighed. "Learn about me, Mr. Potter. Learn my movements, my tricks. Learn what I am sensitive about and where my mind wanders. If you do that, I promise you will know more about Voldemort than anyone else."

Harry could hardly stop himself when his eyes once again connected with Thomason. His scar prickled, his palms became sweaty, and his skin cooled as he flushed. Without thinking, he pushed himself out of his chair, wand tipped towards his Teacher and cloak draped over his arm at the elbows.

"Tell me why," He demanded.

Thomason didn't bother looking at Harry's wand or seem surprised at the response. He stayed in his spot, folding his arms again, curling his shoulders slightly. Harry got the distinct feeling he was trying to make himself look smaller.

"There are studies that show for every decision made there is a universe in which the opposite occurs. I am living proof that it is truth," Thomason answered quietly. "In another time, in another universe, Voldemort's mother lived and raised him. He grew up awkward, but cunning. He craved power, but also wanted love. His time at Hogwarts was the best and worst of his life and he never was loved, but he was never feared either."

Harry felt the grip on his wand grow tighter and his breathing came faster. Without even knowing it, he was shaking his head, staring at the man in front of him. A pain laced behind his eyes. He knew already who he was looking at but he was still fighting it, because this was impossible!

"When Voldemort of this time became older, he became obsessed with his choices. He wanted to know why he never amounted to anything. Why was he so railroaded in his path? He couldn't rest until he knew what had become of him, if he chose different paths in his life. When he finally found a way to do that, he made a mistake. He trapped himself in a horrible choice, in that life with another of him," he gave a heartless laugh, like he preferred to cry instead. "He saw what choice he made and instead of acknowledging it, he treated it like something to be studied before going home. Back to the place where he wasn't a monster. That was... until I met the young man who had his life destroyed by my counterpart."

Thomason looked at Harry and bared his throat.

"I never killed anyone in cold blood in my universe," he said softly. "But I understand if you feel the need to take out that anger on me. I had the potential to be a monster in my life, in my universe. I wouldn't hold it against you if you curse me. I only ask that you allow me to give you as much advantage on the monster here before you do so."

Harry trembled. He wanted to cast anything, something to make the sharp pain in his chest stop. He clenched his teeth and jabbed his wand under Thomason's chin as tears threatened to spill out of the corner of his eyes. The cloak slipped from him in that moment, shifting to the floor in a forgotten heap.

"You killed my parents," Harry whispered. Despite his anger, those words came out broken. "You are Voldemort!"

"In this universe, yes," Thomason answered, never making a move to divert the wand from his throat.

Thomason gave no more though, letting Harry be in charge. Harry almost hated him more for that. How dare he stand there! Harry wanted to break something, hurt something… no. Hurt someone. His jaw worked and his knuckled turned white as they gripped his wand. He could hear the wood make a protest at his treatment and the tip glowed threateningly.

For a minute the only sounds in the room were Harry's harsh breathing and sounds of a wand about to go off. It made the hairs on Harry's arm stand on end and he wouldn't have been surprised if lightening started shooting around the room. Harry would most likely not even notice though as his world narrowed to just the man in front of him. He took this time to look Thomason… no… Riddle over again.

Now that he knew the truth, he could see the similarities between him and the Tom Riddle that came from the dairy. The same dark hair, cheekbones now slightly dulled with age giving his already handsome appearance a warmer feeling. His blue eyes were even more rich now than the diary version that looked dark. His shoulders had become broad in his age, and the refined chin was still there. Harry wanted to kick himself for not noticing. It was so clear now!

Harry felt a tear slip, and slowly pulled his wand away from his Professor's neck.

"Why?" he asked desperately. "Why my parents?"

A deep sigh, before Riddle answered. "Because Voldemort feared his power being taken away. Your parents were in the way of getting to you, the one he thought could stop him one day."

"Why me? _Why them_?" Harry was shaking, his wand threatened to return to Riddle's throat.

"A fool's belief," was the answer he got. "I don't know more than that, if I did, I would gladly tell you."

"I don't believe you," Harry whispered hot tears came down his face. His shoulders shaking but anger held his eyes open. He wouldn't crumple in front of this man.

"If you would like to stay away from me, I understand," Riddle whispered quietly. "Albus asked me in private not to tell anyone who I really was, but I feared it would hinder you more not to know. You deserved to know."

"You're bloody right I do," Harry snipped and Riddle seemed to shrink a little more against him.

"If you don't show up for my classes, I can cover you from getting detention for two weeks' tops," Riddle started with a slight shake to his voice. "I can talk with Albus if you think you need more time, but I implore you to keep attending."

"Why would I want to keep going when I know who you are?" Harry asked, feeling his wand spark.

"Because it would look suspicious firstly," Riddle said, shrugging before looking at Harry again. This time Harry was ready for the pain in his scar. "And secondly, now that you know who I am, I want you to use your knowledge to learn every weakness I have."

"So, you're doing all this to help me beat you?" asked Harry in disbelief.

"Yes," Riddle answered plainly. "In this universe I am a monster bent on killing you. However, I am not a monster Mr. Potter. I would rather see this version of myself fall dead than have to see another version of me harm another person."

Harry swallowed thickly. "So, you want me to kill Voldemort so you don't have to watch yourself be a monster?"

Riddle's eye grew almost cold and Harry felt that shiver return. "I would never have you kill, especially on my behalf. I only want you armed enough to always win. To always escape, to always stop him. I want him to become an annoying fly you swat at times, but never a threat. He doesn't deserve the power."

For the first time since he learned who Thomason really was, Harry felt he believed him but that did little to quell his thoughts. He took a few steps backwards, never looking away from Riddle. He half expected him to follow up, or attack. Instead, Riddle stayed where he was. Riddle never even flinched when Harry's wand sent sparks again.

"So, what happens now?" Harry asked, finally feeling the tears stop but his cheeks grew cold from the trails left behind. He refused to wipe them.

"Hopefully, you head back to your dorm and we go about our business tomorrow. Then, if you attend class, you can ask me afterwards for a pass to come to my office after hours. I know you'll have more questions, I would in your shoes," Riddle answered, looking down at the floor. "I'm at your disposal now."

Harry took a few deep breaths. One thing was for sure, he was too drained to deal with any more tonight. Without putting his wand away, Harry walked towards the door to leave. He felt even another word might be too much to bare at the moment. As he touched the handle to leave, he heard the movement of fabric. He swiftly turned on his heel, wand raised.

Riddle held up the invisibility cloak, still trying to shrink himself it seems through posture alone.

"It will make getting back to your dorm easier if you use this," he answered, holding it out for Harry. Harry took a step in, lowering his wand slightly as he took it. He wrapped it around his shoulders.

Before Harry disappeared behind the cloak all the way, Riddle held up his hand.

"Wait a moment," he said, kneeling. Harry fought the impulse to move away. Riddle waved his hands over Harry's shoes whispering something under his breath, before slowly standing and moving away. "It won't be as effective without a wand to cast, but that should silence your steps."

Harry gave a slight nod, stepping back. He couldn't tell if the spell had worked or not because his heart was beating in his ears too loudly. He turned once again to the door and this time, Harry was the one to speak.

"In my dream," Harry started, wavering. "Did you… was…."

"Yes," Riddle answered. "I'm not quite sure how, but yes."

Harry was too tired to question the answer. He nodded with his back still turned, threw his cloak the rest of the way around himself, before slipping through the archway. Harry paused just outside of his office and pulled out the map. He remembered Lupin saying the map never lies. Right in Thomason’s office there was the set of footprints.

_Thomas M. Riddle_

Harry for the second time that night found himself running through Hogwarts. He was barely aware that despite the slapping of his shoes against the stone floor there wasn't even an echo of his steps. True to form, even when Mrs. Norris had been close to Harry, she didn't seem to notice his steps. Harry hardly cared either way after what he had just found out.

When he made it to the dorms, he didn't even bother slipping off his clothes. He slipped his shoes off and laid in the bed feeling his body shutting down even as his mind whirled.

What was he going to do?

 


	9. Universal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're half way there to the end of Fifth Year. Due to Holiday coming up, I decided to upload this chapter early in case I was stuck not updating. I'll be on Holiday, and going to Universal Studios this Friday! It should help me form more of the story as well as be a lot of fun. Please leave a comment and/or Kudos if you're enjoying my tale.

 

The morning came faster that Harry would have liked it as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The grumbling of Ron from the other side of the room as he slipped his clothes on was a familiar sound. It took until Harry was half way into his shirt when he remembered the night before. He froze where he was, though the other boys didn't seem to notice. Harry shook his head, hurriedly tucking in his shirt, and grabbing Ron by the elbow.

"I have something to tell you," Harry whispered, making sure no one else heard.

"Alright?" Ron whispered back. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and let out a big yawn.

Both him and Harry waited until everyone else left. They shuffled around with their clothes for longer, trying to make it look like everything was normal. Harry wasn't sure they succeeded because Dean raised an eyebrow at them before leaving the room. Harry dropped the book he was holding, now no longer pretending to be busy gathering supplies.

"I found out last night Professor Thomason is Voldemort," Harry started, figuring the best way to start was the hardest part. Ron's eyes grew to the size of saucers, he let out a whimper, and he whipped his head back and forth, looking around.

"Is it…" Ron started, gulping and becoming more pale with his freckles sticking out even worse than before. He waved his hand around his head, circling for a second. Harry had no clue was he was trying to say, before Ron gathered his nerve and said, "Like with Quirrell with-" he leaned in really close in a horrified whisper, "the head thing."

"No," Harry answered, shaking his head. "It's a long story. We should get Hermione."

"Don't you think you should start with telling me how in the bloody way you found out one of our Professors is Voldemort?" Ron whispered angrily.

Harry pinched his lips. "I don't want to tell the story twice. I think once will be enough for me. But, what I can tell you is, I don't think he's going to do anything for now."

"Well, that just makes me feel better," Ron answered sarcastically, he threw his hands up in the arm.

"Don't you trust me?" Harry asked, trying not to sound angry.

Ron paused, looking almost defeated. His shoulders sagged. "I do Harry. I really do."

"Then the story can wait until we reach Hermione," Harry answered.

"Probably won't get her before breakfast. You know how she is about being late anywhere," Ron muttered almost to himself. He clenched his jaw slightly. He seemed to make something up in his mind before turning back to Harry. "Right, we'll grab Hermione, and go to Dumbledore's office. He'll help us figure out how to get rid of You-Know-Who before anyone else figures it out."

That brought up an image in Harry's head of Umbridge trying to fire Voldemort from his teaching position or telling him how to teach. Harry felt almost ill when a huff of laughter made its way up his throat.

"No, Dumbledore knows," said Harry in a rushed voice. "I'll try to explain everything when we get to Hermione but it's… complicated."

Ron raised his eyebrows at that. It went to show how long Harry and Ron have been friends that Ron didn't question him any further. Harry felt a warmth gather in his chest as him and Ron went down to have breakfast. It was one of the rare moments that even when no one else seemed to believe him, the fact that his best friend just went with Voldemort being a teacher, made him feel all the better.

When they approached Hermione she was already half way through eating and had the daily prophet in front of her. She was frowning at the contents, and her spoon was only half way to her mouth, seemingly forgotten. Harry hurried over to her, only putting one leg over the bench.

"Hermione, we have-," Harry started before Hermione's face turned so they were only a few inches apart.

"You wouldn't believe what this morning's Daily Prophet says," she started in a huff, ignoring Harry's surprised reaction. "And honestly, are two always going to be late?" This time she directed it at both of them.

"Hermione," Ron all but whined as he sat down on her other side. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "We have important information to tell you."

"It can't be more important than this," she said, folding the  _Daily Prophet_  and pointing at an article on it. Harry was going to make another objection to his news being more important when he saw what it was.

**Hogwarts on the Path of Ruin?**

Harry reached for the paper and read it carefully. For the most part it seemed like a lot of the previous articles in which the Ministry is saying how poor Hogwarts was being run, Dumbledore being senile, and Umbridge apparently being the cure for everything. However, there was one part in it that seemed to be what irked Hermione so.

"What does this mean the High Inquisitor can make educational decrees?" Harry asked, passing the paper over to Ron so he could read.

"It means Umbridge can make up rules that we have to follow," Hermione answered, then lowered her voice. "It also means we're going to have to take learning into our own hands."

"Why are you so stuck on this idea I should teach?" Harry asked, almost forgetting his own revelations from last night while Hermione explained her idea of creating a group. Harry still wasn't sure he was up to even a small group of people trying to learn from him.

It wasn't until they were half way to class that Harry remembered sharply what he had rushed down to breakfast for. In midsentence Harry pulled both Ron and Hermione into a corner.

"Hermione, I have to tell you something important," Harry whispered. Hermione looked like she was about to interrupt again when Harry blurted out, "Thomason is Voldemort."

Hermione's mouth closed with a click and her eyes bugged out. Even though Ron heard the news already, he still paled again, being reminded.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. Harry must have given a dark look because she rushed, "I had to ask, it's not like I was expecting this."

Harry quickly summarized the night before to both of them, nearly missing their first class. It was thankfully Charms so they all had it together so they were able to continue the conversation. Through most of the explanation Hermione looked pensive, while Ron's eyebrows kept climbing a little higher. When Harry had finished his tale, Hermione looked down at his shoes.

"Do you think we should have someone look at your shoes to see what they were charmed with?" She asked, idling flipping through a charm book at the same time. Harry wasn't sure when she pulled it out.

"I dunno," he answered with a shrug. "He said it would probably ware off soon."

"He is also, you know, so let's have someone take a look," Ron replied, now looking at Harry's shoes as though they might attack him at any moment. "I can't believe you put them back on after that."

"Well, I don't exactly have any spare shoes laying around," Harry muttered, between angry and embarrassed. Ron gave him a sympathetic smile. Harry was pretty sure Ron only had the one pair, which he was quickly outgrowing.

"We have lessons with him today," Hermione started, tapping her fingers against the book, still looking through it. Most likely for whatever wandless magic could be done to shoes. "I think we should go."

"Hold on," Ron said, no longer pretending to be doing any sort of work. "We can't just go to class with him."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "We've been doing it all year so far, and I for one would like to at least keep any eye on him."

"So, we watch, and plan?" Harry asked. He found he liked this idea. It would allow him to know what was going on, and figure out what to do about Riddle. He also wasn't so sure Dumbledore should know Harry was aware who his teacher really was. It served him just fine since Dumbledore still hasn't paid any mind to Harry all year.

Before Harry's thoughts could linger any more, Flitwick stopped by their table.

"Deep conversations are good in class, but only when they're part of the lesson," he said, eyeing them.

They all looked shame faced enough, and apologized before going back to their lesson. With his students returning to work, Professor Flitwick turned back to the class to continue observing their progress. It took a few passes and near the end of class before anyone could say anymore on the subject of Riddle.

"Just to have it out there, I don't like this plan," Ron whispered with a frown.

"Noted," Hermione quipped, making her teacup dance like it was supposed to. Harry thought his made a bit of movement, while Ron's still sat perfectly still.

"Harry, any idea why he doesn't look all… scary like he does now?" Ron asked, waving his hand around his face.

"I don't know," Harry answered, pondering. "He looks like an older version of Riddle who came out of the Dairy in our second year."

"He must not have done whatever it is our version did to himself," Hermione piped in, frowning. "I wonder what sort of magic could deform someone like that."

All three of them shuddered.

"No idea but whatever it is, it can't be good," Harry answered, just before Flitwick made his way around their table again. They all became quiet one more, focusing on their lesson.

When it was time for Transfiguration, they shuffled into the classroom. Each of them had a hand on their wands the whole time and stayed close. Instead of sitting in the front, which Harry found himself doing more and more in this class, they sat near the back corner. All three glanced around the classroom, watching other students filter in with the usual chatter. Harry felt the urge to warn everyone to run away, but quelled himself.

He may not have believed everything he heard last night, but he felt he could at least make it through one class. He could feel Hermione touch his shoulder in comfort. Harry thinks he managed a smile in her direction, though it didn't appear to be very successful going by her face. Ron nudged him, and all of them watched as Tom Riddle walked into the room.

Like any day before, he came in with his hands clasped together in front of him, and glanced around the room. His eyes paused for a second at the three of them before continuing. Harry was sure Riddle saw his wand sticking out slightly from his robes.

"Class, today we have an interesting lesson," he said with his silky voice. The moment he spoke, the whole classroom became silent. Harry glanced around and wondered if that happened every time and he just never noticed. "Today we're going to be learning how to vanish objects and creatures."

Several students seemed to perk up at that. Harry tighten his fingers around his wand.

"It's a very useful trick to learn, not just for playing pranks," Riddle said, waving his hands about. It got a few chuckles from around the room. "This can also be used to learn how to remove vanishing spells on items and creatures. Some of the most elite Witches and Wizards of our time continue to study this branch of magic. Most commonly, invisibility cloaks have a variation of this sort of spell on them."

Harry felt the grip on his shoulder nearly bruise. Riddle looked up at Harry, and when their eyes connected, Harry felt the prick in his scar. If it wasn't for Hermione's tight hold, Harry may have sprung up from his chair at that moment.

"One must learn the magic they are dealing with in order to best use it," Riddle stated, almost in a whisper, his eyes still locked onto Harry. There was a pause, before Riddle turned away first. He seemed to shake himself a moment, before bringing out a spoon. "We will be attempting to vanish a spoon today. If you can master this, I will move you up until you can vanish whole dragons!"

The whole class seemed to chuckle except the trio.

Riddle demonstrated the spell three times for the class, each time twirling the spoon in his hand before it would vanish. He swept his arm across his desk and a pile of spoons appeared.

"Please take at least one per person," he said, stepping aside to allow everyone to get theirs. He watched as eager students came up to get a spoon, and less eager students trudge up to grab one. He didn't seem bothered by either attitude. Instead, he waited patiently for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to come grab their spoons.

Harry glared at the Professor the whole way up to the desk. Riddle, instead of backing up like he did the night before, merely held his ground. Riddle gave a slight nod to Harry. Both of them seemed to feel the edgy truce that was building up between them. Harry and Riddle kept eye contact until Harry slowly grabbed a spoon from the desk and deliberately turned his back. However, he could felt Riddle's eyes on him still.

When all three of them reached their selected table again, it seemed most of the tension left the room. Riddle became animated again, going around the class to assist with helping other students with their lesson.

The trio sat and watched Riddle for a little longer.

"We aren't going to just stare at him all class, are we?" Hermione asked through the side of her mouth.

"What else can we do?" Ron asked, with a slight pitch to his voice. "I feel like I'm in the darkest part of the Forbidden forest right now. Not exactly making me want to pay attention in class."

"We could always leave," Harry suggested, and her heard Hermione hiss at him. He finally turned away from Riddle to look at her. "It was a joke. We need to stay. Just in case."

"Just in case what?" Ron asked, grabbing onto Harry's sleeve. "He decides to kill us all? Not sure if you've been paying attention but the bloke can do wandless magic."

"I noticed," Harry hissed back, feeling the hairs on his head stand on end. He glanced up, expecting to see Riddle looking at him, but he wasn't. Riddle was leaned over by Dean Thomas, correcting his wand movements. "He's also better at pretending nothing strange is going on than we are."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, finally looking around. That's when it became apparent that a few other students were glancing back at them, or muttering while looking at them. Ron's ears turned red. "Oh. Guess we weren't subtle."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course we weren't."

"Well, that makes me feel loads better," Ron muttered, finally looking down at his spoon. He waved his wand half-heartedly and the spoon moved but stayed visible.

"Mr. Weasley," came Riddle's voice suddenly. All three of them straightened, but luckily none of them pointed their wands at him. They all turned to him, as he tilted his head to the side. "It's more of a tap, then a flick. Try it once more."

Harry was sure Ron getting that Howler in second year was less terrifying for him than this. His freckles stood out against his pale face and instead of the tapping motion, he made a jabbing motion. Harry was also pretty sure he didn't even say the correct word, or anything like it. A spark came out of his wand, but that was it.

"Keep practicing. One doesn't fail until one stops trying," Riddle said, nodding slightly, and turned to Hermione. "Would you please attempt the spell for me, Miss. Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath and tapped her wand. Then, her spoon vanished.

"Well done Miss. Granger. Five points for doing it correctly on your first try," Riddle said, with a soft smile. Instead of looking pleased, Hermione shrunk down in her chair and looked like she was going to be ill. Riddle looked up at Harry.

Harry gripped his wand, ready to stand. He felt the urge to fight or flee, his heart hammering again in his chest. They stayed locked for a few seconds, before Riddle turned away. His back to Harry. Even so, Harry still felt the urge to curse his turned back.

"Keep practicing everyone, and Miss. Granger, please try another spoon. If you succeed on that one, I will provide something larger for you to vanish," he said, looking over his shoulder at Hermione. She nodded so hard, her bushy hair fell in front of her face for a moment.

Riddle returned to walking around the classroom. Despite the tension in his limbs, Harry found he couldn't move. He never tried to vanish the spoon, instead just watched Riddle the whole time. By the end of class, Harry felt he could possibly pull that man's walk out of a crowd, and he was sure he would never forget his voice. So much like Voldemort, yet nothing alike. Riddle's voice, while smooth like Voldemort's, but he had a richness and softness to it, that Voldemort lacked. It was the different between hearing a lion and a house cat.

When class ended, Harry stood up and approached Riddle. Ron and Hermione hung back a few paces, both clutching their wands under their robes. Riddle and Harry stared at each other once more as the last of the other students cleared the room.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Riddle asked, leaning against his desk and rounding his shoulders.

"I'm coming to your office after classes," Harry declared.

"I thought so," he responded before leaning over to look past Harry. "I assume the two of your will want to come as well?"

"Yes Professor," Hermione answered in almost a whisper.

Harry almost rejected the offer, but Riddle snapped his fingers first. Three small pieces of parchment floated above their heads. One for each of them.

"These are passes, so none of you will be in trouble coming to see me after curfew," Riddle explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Make sure you keep them on you. You will be asked since Professor Umbridge has decided to watch the halls tonight."

Harry snatched the parchment from the air and tucked it away into his pocket. Hermione grabbed the other two as Ron seemed to be stuck.

"I want proof," Harry said.

"Of course," Riddle answered. "I'll see whatever I can find to assist, and if you still feel warranted, I would recommend speaking with Headmaster Dumbledore about your concerns."

"I will," Harry promised, turning without another word. Ron and Hermione followed him closely. Harry rounded the corner before he felt like he could breathe again.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, covering his face with his hand. "That was tense."

"I'll say," Hermione answered, still bushy haired. "Well, we can at least try to confirm what he says is true."

"Which it can't be because that's impossible," Ron snipped, still looking a little shaky. Hermione glared at him for a moment.

"Well, it's unlikely, but may not be impossible," she answered. Harry looked up at her. She pinched her lips. "I've been reading a lot about time this year, and it's still a theory in this Universe, but it might be real."

"You think he's telling the truth?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said with a furrowed brow. "Maybe. It makes more sense to me than him" -she looked around and made sure no one was paying attention- "V-voldemort being a teacher."

"Well, I guess we'll find out more tonight," Harry said, pulling out his note. He saw the same neat cursive handwriting that he now recognized as the same writing from his second year. This time, Harry knew who he was talking to and he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Ron and Hermione nodded and they all went to their next class, still nervous, but determined.

That determination seemed to fade throughout the day and only became worse. By the time they could slip out to Riddle's office, they were all jumpy.

"Let's just get this over with," Harry gritted through his teeth, clutching his note. Ron gulped and nodded. Hermione grabbed her robe to throw over her shoulders.

"Alright Harry," She said, looking up at him. "Lead the way."

The three of them left the common rooms with their passes in hand. Despite the cool night at Harry felt sweat trickle down his back as they walked to Riddle's Office. As though sensing their nerves on edge Umbridge came swooping in.

It didn't take more than a staircase before Umbridge popped her toad face into their view. If Harry had any more nerve to gather at that moment, he might have been surprised. Umbridge stood in front of them with a slimy smirk on her face.

"Oh dear," she proclaimed with a girlish voice, grating on Harry's already frayed nerves. "Three students out of bed past curfew. I think that should be at least 10 points from-"

"We have passes Professor," Hermione hurriedly answered, producing her slip.

Umbridge slowly turned her head towards Hermione, making a soft huffing sound before snatching the note from her hands. Her large eyes peered across it before she made a slight choking sound.

"Oh," she said softly, almost smoothing the parchment back out, looking incredibly flustered. "Well, if he says you can be out then it should be…"

She looked up from the note and back at the three of them. Harry wasn't exactly sure what was going on but he tried to look as innocent as possible. Umbridge narrowed her eyes even more at him then turned back to Hermione.

"All three of you have this note?" Umbridge asked, her voice pitched slightly higher than even her normal voice.

"Yes Professor," she answered, nudging Ron and Harry. Both of them pulled out their notes which were quickly snatched up as well.

"I see…" Umbridge said, handing them back after a moment. "Well, go on. You shouldn't keep Professor Thomason waiting. He's a very busy man."

"Well, we were trying before you stopped us," Harry snapped, tucking his note away. He could hear Ron and Hermione groan behind him.

Umbridge's head slowly turned to him.

"Another night's detention, I think," she said softly before moving aside. "Tomorrow night. Well, I think I should come with you three, seeing as how you can't even be on time."

"Oh, that's not necessary" -Hermione started, but Umbridge quickly cut her off.

"It's necessary if I say it is, Miss. Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting a Professor," Umbridge said, almost trying to look down at them, though they were almost as tall as her. Ron was actually almost a head taller. She moved in front, leading the way.

Harry gritted his teeth as they walked in silence. They quickly made their way to the third floor, Harry looking darkly at the back of Umbridge's head the whole time. Ron and Hermione passed looks to one another, staying quiet though and letting Harry stew. By the time they made it to Riddle's Office, Harry was itching to curse the toad in the back.

Umbridge knocked on the office door, patting her hair with one hand, like he has seen Aunt Petunia do when they had company over. Harry didn't think it actually did anything though.

The door swung open to reveal Riddle, still dressed in his formal robes from the school day. He seemed mildly surprised to see Umbridge's smiling face in front of the trio though, but he quickly recovered. He offered her a smile in return.

"I see you have made sure they made it safely to my office," he said, practically oozing with charm. Umbridge let out a series of girlish giggles, covering her mouth with her fat hand.

"You know I couldn't allow three students out past curfew without an escort," Umbridge said, leaning towards Riddle. Harry felt like he wanted to throw up. "Their safety is incredibly important to the Ministry, and myself, of course."

"Of course," he responded. "I appreciate all the extra effort you put in. It's quite a marvel that you find time to sleep with all your dedication to this school."

Another series of giggles followed. Harry vaguely wondered how Riddle could do this and not vomit on her shoes. Riddle kept a pleasant face, and lowered his lids ever so slightly. Harry was reminded of the snakes who hypnotize their victims before they strike.

"I hope they haven't cause any trouble this evening Dolores, as I'll need them every evening for the next week, or more," he said, his voice dropping an octave like it did the night before.

Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione, both staring openly at Riddle. They seemed almost as entranced as Umbridge with the performance.

"Well, Mr. Potter does have a tiny problem," Umbridge answered, with a small cough. "He had detention with me tomorrow night." Riddle's face fell slightly, looking disappointed, then Umbridge practically screeched "But, he can serve it with you if you like."

"Oh, well that would work out very nicely for me," he said, his smile coming back onto his face. He reached out a hand, grabbing Umbridge's like he was going to kiss it, but instead patted it gently. "You are truly doing me a favor. Thank you."

Harry was sure Umbridge was having a fit. She stuttered something, probably thinking she made sense before almost making a curtsy, if the bending knees were anything to do by. She wobbled a bit, and fanned her face, saying something about patrolling before hurrying off down the hall.

Harry watched her go with raised eyebrows. He was sure he had never seen such a sight before in his life, and he hoped he would never see it again.

"Well," Riddle started, looking at the three stupefied looking students at his door. "This evening is already starting off stranger than I thought it would."

"So, can we start this with how you got that toad wrapped around your finger?" asked Ron as he let out a small laugh. That seemed to break the silence and Harry felt himself shuffling his feet. Riddle gave a pained smile as moved aside, ushering them in before shutting the door behind them.

"Now, I'm not one to tell others how to live, but you must try to hold your tongue around her Mr. Potter," Riddle started, waving his head, and four tea cups appeared with hot tea. He helped himself to the one by his chair, putting in a sugar cube before sipping it. "I can only imagine what she has you lot doing during those detentions."

"You don't know already?" Harry asked, gritting his teeth. "You sure you didn't give her the idea?"

"Quite sure," Riddle answered, taking another sip. "Please, make yourselves at home. We have a lot to cover and not a whole lot of time to do it in."

Hermione seemed to be the one to take the initiative, moving forward to grab a cup, and sit at one of the empty chairs. She turned to look at Ron and Harry who were still standing, imploring them to follow suit. Ron looked at Harry first, before moving forward to do that same. Neither of them took a sip of their tea, just held it in their hands. Harry moved behind the last chair.

"I'd rather stand," Harry said, jutting his chin out slightly.

Riddle nodded to him, placing his cup down at the desk. Ron and Hermione quickly did the same.

Riddle pulled out a note book from inside his desk and placed it on the top. He opened it to a tattered page and began pointing at a paragraph of scrolling notes written in Riddle's neat cursive writing.

"This is where I started working on my theory of alternate time lines," he began. Harry looked over at it, along with Ron and Hermione. "I became obsessed with the idea after I had completed a study on time turners nearly two decades ago in my universe."

He flipped to the next page, not quite allowing enough time to any of them, except maybe Hermione, to read.

"This is where I began to study ritual magic that might allow me to bend the universe enough to see into another one. A neighbor universe if you will," he continued, this time pushing his notebook closer to them and sitting back in his chair. "Please be careful with it, as it's one of the only few possessions I have from my own Universe."

Hermione gently touched it, reading through the notes in silence. Harry read a few sentences but they didn't make any sense to him. They seemed far too advanced for anything he's ever encountered. He did feel slightly better at it when he saw Ron was having the same problems as him, looking between the book and Hermione, like he was just waiting for her to answer his questions for him. It turned out, he didn't have to wait long.

"You theorized that time sand could be used in a ritual spell, allowing space itself to bend enough to view another universe?" Hermione asked incredulously but Riddle only nodded.

"My idea was only to view what was possible, but instead I found myself trapped here," Riddle answered, letting out a deep boned sigh. "Since it was all theory work, it is hard to know exactly what had went wrong, and even harder to find out how to make it back to my own universe without ripping time apart."

"Ripping time apart?" Ron squealed, looking about as horrified as Harry felt at the moment.

"It is a possibility," Riddle answered. "If I were to try to recreate the exact circumstances it could either throw me into another universe, my old universe, or simply rip a hole in time itself. As you can imagine, I'm not so quick to try to recreate this again without further knowledge."

"That is why you gave me the book," Hermione whispered, now holding onto the notebook. She looked up at Riddle, who almost seemed to have a twinkle of humor in his eyes now. "You wanted my thoughts on the theory, to help you find a way back home."

"You would be correct," Riddle smiled at her, looking more relaxed now. He even took another sip of his tea before he continued. "Albus found me when I came to this universe, apparently, the same week a fragment of my counterpart here was destroyed. I believe he said it was a dairy?"

Harry felt himself nodding.

"Yes, well, it seemed that destruction of part of him helped pull me into this universe when I only attempted to peak in," Riddle rubbed his temple with his hand. "Albus was of course, suspicious of me when I first entered this universe but after a month in his company, we were able to see eye to eye. There is an Albus in my universe as well, and we get along quite well."

"In our Universe Voldemort and Dumbledore are enemies," Harry said, gripping the back of the chair. Riddle regarded him for a moment.

"The version of me here is very short sighted," Riddle started. "He cares only for quick power, that is why he is so interested in the Dark Arts. It's a quick boast in power but it takes as much as it gives to those that use it."

"Is that the reason why he looks," Ron started, making that same gesture he did earlier in the day to describe Voldemort's snake like features. Riddle winced at it, seemingly understanding instantly what Ron was trying to say.

"It is part of it, yes," he answered, looking deeply uncomfortable. "He has discovered terrible magic that allows him to live for longer than he should, but at a horrible cost. One, I would never pay."

"What is the cost?" Harry asked, feeling the question burn.

"His soul," Riddle answered in a whisper. "If I had to guess, that would be it. He has done something… something horrible to his own soul to get this way. It is a theory as to why I was pulled here as well. With part of his soul either destroyed or corrupted beyond what we understand as living, it tried to pull itself back together, therefore pulling me in. The popular guess is that him and I share the same soul."

"The same soul?" Ron asked, looking horrified.

"Yes," Riddle stated, taking another sip of his tea. Only the gentle sound of pages turning occupied the room. Hermione seemed to be drifting in and out of the conversation as she read the notes.

"If you and him are the same…" Harry started, the idea forming in his mind. "Can you beat him?"

At that Hermione stopped reading and looked up. Ron perked up as well.

"That is an interesting question. It would depend on many factors. I can already tell my counterpart here, and for the sake of brevity let's just call him Voldemort, and you can refer to me by my birth name Tom Riddle." Riddle started, pressing his fingers together in thought. "Now, Voldemort, has attempted to find the limits of the Dark Arts in ways I would have never even thought of, where as I have attempted something more down the middle. I have learned some Dark Arts, but I have learned as much, if not more of different magic. I place my faith in older magic before wands, and before we tried to name every spell thought of. This has given me greater knowledge in ancient magic than Voldemort. Each of us have an advantage over the other, it would be unwise of me to say that I could defeat him or he me."

Harry felt an almost crushing disappointment at that. It seemed the easy answer was out of the window.

"There is one thing I know for certain though," Riddle said quietly. "If Voldemort and myself were to fight with everything we have, one of us would surely die and I cannot say which that would be."

"But isn't it worth the risk?" Harry asked, clenching his fist. "Isn't even the chance of getting rid of Voldemort here worth everything?"

"It is," Riddle answered simply, looking up at Harry. For the first time since he found out Fiennes was Tom Riddle, his scar didn't hurt at their eye contact. "But, to go into a fight with him without preparing is almost asking for me to be the loser in that battle. Not only that but could you imagine if Voldemort figured out there were other universes he could tap into to increase his power? That is a risk I could never take lightly. He is a threat to everyone here, but at least it is just here and not in every possible universe."

They all grew quiet. Harry felt himself reach for a cup of tea, surprisingly still warm. Hermione flipped another page, looking at Ron and Harry for a moment, before deciding something.

"Professor," she started, turning to look at Riddle. "What have you figured out about traveling to different universes? How far are you to going home?"

"Oh, that is quite a long story," Riddle started, downing his tea before leaning forward. "However, it appears we have some time."

Riddle continued to explain in great detail how him and Dumbledore figured out what had gone wrong in his ritual as well as what to do about him here. It seemed he had been in this universe for just over two years, quietly studying as much as he could about time and the universe. When Hermione started to toss theories into the conversation, it went over Harry's head as they went through theories upon theories of what exactly had occurred.

Harry found himself almost drifting off in his seat, barely remembering that he had sat down. He also didn't quite remember when he accepted that Riddle was telling the truth. He really was a man from another universe, who just happened to be the counterpart to Voldemort.

A very boring counterpart, but Harry would take him any day.

"Dear me, it seems we've run quite late into the night," Riddle said suddenly. Harry couldn't tell exactly how he knew it was late since there wasn't a window in the office. Riddle stood up from his desk and looked them over. "I will walk you back to your dorms."

Harry looked over at Ron who was asleep in his arms on the desk. He shook him awake and chuckled when a piece of parchment was stuck to his head. Harry peeled it off and placed it back on the desk. Riddle looked at the two with a soft smile.

"Come on you three. Time to get you back," he said, urging them up.

Riddle led them back the common rooms and made sure they were inside. Before the Fat Lady could swing shut, already upset at having to wake up for them in the first place, Riddle leaned close to Harry.

"I know it is hard being someone no one believes," Riddle started, looking very nervous now. Harry stopped and was truly too tired to glare at him for it. "Trust me when I say, you don't have to do anything. The people who don't believe you will be proven wrong. Just remember that, when it gets hard."

"Thanks," Harry said, not sure what he should say. Riddle have him a tight-lipped smile and made one of his aborted attempts to pat Harry's shoulder. Harry almost told him he could, but then he remembered how his scar has been reacting lately to him and thought better of it. It wasn't worth the risk of a splitting headache.

After the awkward moment, Harry went in through the entrance, as Riddle turned around to leave. For the second night in a row, Harry fell asleep with only his shoes slipped off and his glasses sitting beside the bed. It only took a few seconds before he was fast asleep.

 


	10. Late Night Meetings

The past week had been such an emotional roller-coaster, Harry had forgotten about going to Hogsmeade until Hermione had brought up the idea of him teaching defense again. The meeting at the Hog's Head had gone far better than Harry every thought it could, and he was in a great mood the next day until he saw the Educational Decree declaring all teams, meetings, clubs, and groups had to be approved. To top off the week, Snape gave him double the essays, Quidditch was cancelled for Harry until Umbridge decided Gryffindor could reform, and the worst was Sirius almost getting caught by Umbridge while talking in the fireplace. The only saving grace to the week had been the nightly meetings with Riddle in his office.

After the first night, Riddle took to waiting by the Gryffindor tower to take them to his office. Harry was grateful for it since that meant they didn't have to worry about Umbridge catching them out of their dorms. There was one night that Umbridge walked by them, but it was only to talk to Riddle. Harry did have to admit, knowing who Umbridge was really talking to, and understanding how his counterpart would react to that short, stubby hand touching his shoulder, did make Harry feel better. Riddle only smiled at her and said some quiet words to her. Since then, they never saw her around at night anymore. Harry was dying to know what he said but Riddle wouldn't answer.

"It's something I'd rather not discuss," was all Riddle would say on the matter when asked, though he always looked like he swallowed something sour.

Some of the meetings were used to discuss the differences between Universes and how to possible get Riddle back to his own. Hermione was often working on the ritual when she wasn't doing homework. Harry often felt lost when they started talking, and Ron's eye would glaze over when they went on too long about it. Those times were luckily few though. Most of the time Riddle would ask them how the day was going in class. Harry felt this week he was justified in venting.

It really was a terrible week.

"She won't allow us to play! She won't even approve our team, but she approved all the other houses," Harry almost shouted, throwing his arms up.

"We can't even practice, which means we're falling behind," Ron added, equally upset.

Hermione tightened her lip but remained quiet. Hermione had already suggested they work more on their essays instead of complaining, but that only made Ron and Harry complain more. She was also of the mind that they should focus on helping Riddle instead of worrying about Umbridge. While Harry agreed helping Riddle was important, Quidditch was also important.

"She does seem to have it against your house," Riddle muttered, looking like he was doing his best to hide a smile. Harry felt himself prickle in irritation before Riddle quickly coughed, then offered more tea. "This is only a tactic to show that she has control over all of you. It only works if you get upset in front of her over it."

"Well, of course we're upset," Ron answered between biscuits, holding out his cup for more tea. "I mean, Quidditch is the most fun thing to do here and she's basically banned fun."

Harry found himself nodding along, though Hermione just seemed pensive.

"Don't give her any ideas," Riddle replied, sitting back now that tea had been given out again.

"Yeah, Decree- what are we up to now- will state all fun must will be banned unless you like hanging by your toes over a fire," Ron muttered darkly.

"Well, at least you know she won't last the year," Riddle said, shrugging slightly.

Harry sat up in his chair, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Riddle responded, sipping his tea and looking at the three of them. Ron and Hermione looked just as lost as Harry though.

"Know what?" Asked Hermione.

"There's a curse on the position," Riddle answered, helping himself to one of the biscuits.

"That is just a rumor," Harry said, confused.

"Is it really cursed?" Hermione asked, sitting up like she does during lectures.

Riddle nodded, placing his cup down on his desk once more. "I was able to confirm it a month in with Albus. It seems Voldemort has been rather busy."

"Voldemort placed a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" Harry asked, his mouth slightly hanging open. It was still unbelievable that a curse could be on a teaching position, though the luck the previous professors had over the years, it made sense.

Ron let out a low, " _I knew it_." Under his breath.

"Yes, I'm afraid he did," Riddle replied after chewing for a moment. He took another moment, seemingly to make sure they were all paying attention before continuing. "It seems when he left Hogwarts all those years ago, he came requesting a Teaching position here. Most likely to try to recruit students at a young age into his cause. When Albus declined him for the position, he placed a curse on it, so no Teacher lasts the year. Usually their own hubris causes their untimely need to leave."

"Was that why Professor Lupin was discovered as a Werewolf in our third year?" Hermione asked. Harry felt like snapping that it was because of Snape, not some curse that caused it but held his tongue.

"Remus Lupin?" Riddle questioned. They nodded. "I imagine so. Usually whoever holds the position, one of their worst fears comes to light and that is what causes them to leave. It's a very useful tactic as well, since students will never get a solid Professor to teach them defense."

"So, it was also used to weaken everyone against him?" Harry questioned, feeling his jaw clench. The whole year of not learning any more in defense was starting to eat at him more and more. Now knowing that it was only helping Voldemort grow in power made it seem ten times worse. Harry was now feeling even more grateful to Hermione for suggesting the club.

"If I were to try to seize power, the easiest way is through my enemy's children," Riddle responded, bringing his fingers together under his chin in thought. "Weaken the next generation and you have less to worry about. This year, I doubt Voldemort would have much to fear from anyone being taught by Umbridge. That is one of the reasons why I am here."

Riddle looked up at them. His brows slightly furrowed, and his head tilted to the side. Harry was always reminded of a snake when he did that and now that he knew he was looking at Voldemort's counterpart, he could see the similarity in their movements in moments like this.

"Albus asked me to teach, knowing the education you would be getting under Umbridge," said Riddle, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "It is the reason I am teaching every class advanced transfigurations. All of my lessons can be used in defense, or battle tactics if given the opportunity."

"How was transfiguring our hands into animals helpful?" Ron asked. Harry swore he could hear Hermione rolling her eyes at him.

"Full transfiguration is extremely helpful," Riddle replied, looking at Ron now. "You can swim underwater without worrying about breathing, shirk in size to get out of a tight spot, or grow in size to increase your strength. Unlike being an Animagi who are locked into a single full transformation without needing a spell, you can alter your shape to fit the situation. Though, unless you are very skilled, it doesn't always work out."

"Alright, but what about disappearing a spoon?" Asked Ron. This time, Harry answered.

"You can use that spell on clothes or items, to hide," said Harry. "My cloak, it can do that. Imagine if we could cast a spell that hid us even when we don't have the cloak?"

"Or hide an item you didn't want anyone to find," said Riddle, now looking at Harry with a soft smile. "Protecting others or items can sometimes be the best defense one can hope for against an opponent such as Voldemort."

"You talk like you have experience with is," Harry said.

"I do," Riddle answered, sitting back in his chair again. "In my Universe while I am no Dark Wizard, there is one in my place."

"Another Dark Wizard?" Hermione whispered in slight horror.

"Yes, though it seems unlikely," Riddle said, nodding. He looked at Hermione. "He calls himself that anyways. He is the worst my Universe has had in the past fifty years."

"Did he do the same things as Voldemort?" Harry asked at once.

"No," Riddle shook his head sharply. Harry could almost swear he looked insulted. "He isn't nearly powerful enough to be as much of a threat. He swings his weight around, and has a following. Albus and I have put him in his place more times than I can count. He is currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban though his followers somehow repeal his sentence every few years. I'm afraid it starts all over again until we catch him doing something, and throw him back."

"So, he hasn't started any kind of war in your Universe?" asked Hermione.

"Not so much a war, as a divided population," Riddle answered, humming a bit in thought before continuing. "He's for a more secular law system in which Muggleborn are taught a different set of lessons that a pureblood. Though, luckily for us, he isn't that great of a speaker, and was a poor study. He seems to think just being a pureblood is good enough to make his word law, but fortunately it isn't."

"He doesn't want to kill them? The Muggleborn?" Harry asked.

"No, but it's close," Riddle quipped, shaking his head. "He wants to treat us like second class citizens and has declared Muggleborn to be weaker. He knows the wizard who bested him the last three times he had tried anything was born from a Muggle father. I believe my Muggle Father to be a bigger factor in why he wants me dead more than me defeating him, truth be told."

"You're Muggleborn?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide. Ron's jaw about hit the ground as well.

"I thought Voldemort was Pureblood," said Harry.

"Oh no we're not," Riddle answered with a smile and shaking his head. "He would like to pretend he is, but we're as common as it gets, though our Mother was from a Pure family. So pure in fact I'm sure they have all died out with lack of diversity. I'm told my Grandfather was insane and had no siblings. He died, along with everyone in his family expect my mother as far as I am aware. You are looking at the last Heir of my family."

"No offense, but that sounds like a good thing for us here," Ron said, still looking rather pale. "I can't imagine more of _He Who Must Not Be Named_ running around."

"None taken, I assure you," Riddle said, waving his hand around, dismissively. "I will say, it's not such a secret in my Universe what I am, though the Dark Wizard of my time would like me to be a little more hush-hush about it. He seems to find it extremely offensive that I do not hide that about myself."

"He seems like he's not much of a threat," Harry said, clenching his hands.

"He is a threat, but nothing like Voldemort," Riddle said quietly. "He's disorganized, and lacks the drive to make it as far as Voldemort has."

"Why couldn't we have had _that_ one instead?" Ron muttered darkly, grabbing another biscuit.

"It seems fate wanted to keep everyone on their toes here," Riddle quipped, raising an eyebrow at Ron when he shoved the biscuit in his mouth. "The Dark Wizard of my Universe could have easily been a servant under Voldemort, or killed by him here. He may have tried to seek power but fell under Voldemort's charm along the way. It's easier to follow a leader than become one yourself after all. That and Voldemort had a very different upbringing than I did. Which lead to a completely different set of circumstances for him and the world."

"Must have been a messed up childhood to make him," said Ron with his mouth full. Harry was amazed Riddle didn't roll his eyes, but Hermione did.

"I'm told it was quite harsh," Riddle answered, looking pensive. "His mother died just after he was born, and his father disowned him when he was still unborn. He grew up in a muggle orphanage, where he was feared."

"Sounds delightful," muttered Harry, rubbing his scar. It prickled at him slightly but he was getting used to it now, being in Riddle's presence sometimes hurt, and sometimes didn't. Riddle watched him, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I assure you it was far from it," Riddle looked down at his hands. "Mine was vastly different, yet similar. My Father also disowned me before I was born however, my mother lived after giving birth to me, and raised me until I was fifteen. She became very ill and refused treatment. I was in school when it happened."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, looking very sorry. Harry felt his own heart clench thinking of his parents who died trying to save him. Even Ron became silent. Riddle merely waved his hand like he usually did.

"It was a long time ago, and she wasn't that great of a mother," he responded softly, but for his words, Harry thought he looked more somber than before.

"What was she like?" Harry asked, not quite sure why he did.

"She was harmless," said Riddle. "Harmless, but obsessed with my father. I resemble him a great deal. She would always talk about him as though he were just away on holiday. I used to think my father would walk through the door any day, until I realized she was insane with obsession and he was never going to come back. When I began to show my magic, she disliked it greatly. She made me do everything the muggle way, the way my father would have done it, and she also tried to get me expelled from Hogwarts at least once a year. If it wasn't for Albus, I would have never learned magic. He convinced her that I needed to learn, though to this day I still don't know how he did it."

Riddle had a smile on his face, though he didn't look very happy. He shuffled his hands around his desk, straightening some paper. They all stayed silent, waiting for Riddle to continue. It was oddly quiet in the castle as well as though even it was waiting for more.

Riddle kept his eyes down.

"She was kind at times. When I was ill she would stay up all night, rubbing my back to help me sleep. She taught me how to read and write, the little she could anyways. She always made sure I was warm enough during the winter even if it meant she went without a blanket…" Riddle said, trailing off with his eyes glinting in the light. He shook his head as though to clear the memory. "I don't know if all the differences between Voldemort and me can be brought down to simply our childhood though. They may have differed but they mirror. He was never seen by the women who raised him as anything but a monster, while I was never seen as myself to my mother, just a replacement for someone she couldn't have."

"If it helps, I don't believe it was just your childhood," said Harry, leaning in his chair. "I spent most of my life with my muggle Aunt and Uncle who couldn't be happier I am out of their house now, and I didn't end up like him. I think you made a choice, not to be like Voldemort." Harry recalled the phrase that helped him all those years ago and felt their warmth as he shared, "It is our choices, far more than our abilities that determine who we truly are."

"Wise words for one so young," Riddle smiled, but this time it seemed happier than before. "I would like to think it was my own choices. That what I did to get me here, matters."

"It did," Harry said with a strong conviction. He could see Ron and Hermione nodding in agreement.

"You're very different from V-voldemort," Hermione said stuttered, squaring her shoulders. "You're a good person. He isn't."

"Yeah," Ron exclaimed. "You're alright!"

Riddle shook his head with a smile. His fingers came to curl around his mouth as his mirth spilled over, and for the first time, Harry heard him laugh in joy. It was light, and caused the corners of Riddle's eyes to crinkle. Riddle's shoulders shook slightly as he tried to contain it. Harry felt a grin spilt across his own face at the display.

"Well, with such praise how could I ever doubt myself," Riddle said through a few chuckles, clearing his throat in an attempt to stop.

"You should hear what we'd say to you if you got us unbanned from Quidditch," Harry said, still grinning.

"Oh?" Riddle asked, still faintly chuckling and cocking his eyebrow.

"I'm sure we could have a song written," said Harry. "We'll even have Lee announce it during the games, so we can get the whole school in on it."

"Wouldn't be too hard either, since most people like you," Ron piped in, smiling as well.

"Only _most_?" Riddle questioned, keeping up the humor.

"No accounting for taste with some," Hermione said, joining in.

They all shared a small laugh at that. The conversation was kept light afterwards before it became too late to continue. When the tea had become too cool to sip, Riddle ushered them to the door to take them back to the Tower. The halls were very quiet but unlike some of the other times when they returned, the journey didn't feel awkward.

When they approached the staircase leading to the tower, Snape rounded the corner with his wand out. They saw the light at the tip of his wand before him. Harry felt himself move towards his own wand hidden in his cloak on pure instinct, before he felt the lightest touch on his back between his shoulders. He paused and lowered his hands to his sides. Harry glanced over and saw Riddle standing close, looking calm as ever.

"Professor," Riddle said in greeting, giving a slight nod.

"Professor," Snape repeated back but without any of the warmth Riddle seemed to exude. His eyes remained locked onto Harry's and Harry felt as though he couldn't look away. "Out of bed, were they?"

"With permission," Riddle replied smoothly. The warmth of his fingers now seeping through to Harry, who felt himself relax. His eyes remained on Snape, watching Snape sneer slightly more. "I've taken these three under my wing, as it were, since they seem to be the ones causing the most concern."

"With good reason," Snape snipped at them. He took a few moments longer before his eyes finally left Harry's and went between all four. He was still stiff but his wand finally lowered making the bright light dim slightly. Harry almost felt his eyes drift shut when Snape looked away from him. "I assume the Headmaster approved of this?"

"Not at all," Riddle responded, his voice seeming to hum. His fingertips felt as though they vibrated against Harry when he spoke. "Our High Inquisitor approved it."

"I see," Snape said quietly. A shiver ran though Harry when Snape looked at him again, but it only lasted a second. Snape's jaw clenched for a moment as he looked back up at Riddle and straightened. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thank you Severus," Riddle nodded once more, his eyes creasing slightly as he gently nudged Harry forward. Harry felt as though he was almost asleep until the touch released on him. He stepped forward and continued with Ron and Hermione up the stairs. Each step seemed like it was harder than the last. Harry wasn't sure when was the last time he felt so tired. He even had to grab the railing to assist with moving up. He did stop for a moment to glance back at Snape who hadn't moved yet.

Snape watched them leave with an odd expression. It was perhaps the only time Harry had not seen him look angry, but pensive. Harry turned back to watch his steps as he continued to climb up. Riddle stayed just behind Harry, and it felt almost as though he was blocking Harry's gaze from Snape. Harry shook his head, wondering where that thought came from.

When they reached the Fat Lady, Riddle waited outside like usual as they stepped in. Harry waited until Ron and Hermione were already in before turning back to Riddle.

Riddle looked down, and then back over his shoulder as though he were looking for someone. Harry felt himself try to peak out around Riddle, before Riddle shuffled.

"This is where I bid you good night," Riddle said, bringing his hands together.

"Professor," Harry started, but Riddle shook his head.

"Not tonight I'm afraid," he responded quietly, nearly whispering. "Tonight, worry about your sleep, and keeping your calm for class tomorrow. Afterwards, we can discuss anything you'd like."

Harry felt himself nod, even though a part of him wanted to shout that he wanted answers. He wasn't sure why he wanted to shout at Riddle, since his felt so warm. Harry let out a large yawn, nearly knocking himself over in an attempt to smoother it. Almost without thought Harry waved Riddle good night, and went straight to his bed. Harry was sure Ron said something to him, but before he knew it, he was already in his bed fast asleep.

It was the first night in some time that Harry slept soundly but he also saw the corridor in his dreams. The door just out of reach felt even further away this time, and for some reason, Harry wasn't bothered by that. Instead, he slept and was content with just looking at it from a distance.

That was, until he woke the next day.


	11. Curious Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who thinks Harry can trust Riddle?

 

Most mornings Harry finds himself raising from bed still half asleep with all the other boys waking up. Usually Ron is still asleep and needs prodding. Dean and Seamus are the first two to rise on most occasions. Dean has complained it's because his bed sits near the east window, so he gets the sun in his face most mornings. Neville was usually up right around the time Harry got up as well, having been disturbed by the other boys. This morning was different.

The sun wasn't even up yet when Harry sprung from bed clutching at his scar in pain. He wasn't aware of anyone else waking up, just the feeling like something was trying to pull his brain from his skull with a cattle prod. Harry's eyes were screwed shut and even though he just woke up from this, he felt like he could pass out from it. Just as quickly as the pain had come on, it suddenly stopped. Harry let out a shaky breath.

"Harry!" came Ron's voice from his left.

Harry opened his eyes lightly, and looked around. Dean was sitting up his bed half asleep but staring at him. He couldn't see his face very well due to the light coming from the window was barely more than a whisper of sun. Neville was rolled over, but Harry couldn't see his face enough to know if he was awake or not. When he turned to his left, he found himself looking at Ron's chest. Harry became aware that he was kneeling on the carpet with Ron hovering over his shoulder.

"Harry?" Ron whispered, his hands coming down on Harry's back. "You alright mate?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, swallowing back his dinner. Despite the good night sleep up until this point, Harry felt weak in his limbs. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hoping the spots would stop dancing in his blurred vision. "Can you hand me my glasses?"

"Sure," answered Ron. Harry felt Ron's weight on his back from a moment as he used Harry to shift over to the night stand before his glasses were thrust into his hands.

Harry put them on and felt slightly better. Now he could see Dean's concerned face. Dean had gotten out of bed at this point and lit a torch. Neville was rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked through a yawn.

Harry felt his cheeks redden under the gaze of everyone. It felt rather silly now that the pain was gone to be fretting over it. He was getting used to the little pain pricks here and there when he was around Riddle, so he stopped noticing his scar acting strange this week. He hadn't felt his kind of pain in months though. It was worse than when Voldemort was far away from him, but not worse than when he had touched Harry's face in the graveyard.

Harry shuddered at the memory.

"Headache," Harry muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Splitting headache."

"Did you fall out of bed?" Dean questioned, looking over Harry's forehead now.

Harry felt his ears grow hot.

"I've done it before," Neville offered, pointing to his head. "I got a little scar in my hair here where I caught the nightstand on the way down. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"I didn't fall out of bed, just a headache," Harry said, covering his face for a moment. He was grateful at least Ron would know what had happened. He glanced at him through his fingers. Ron was looking rather pale.

"Should I go fetch a teacher?" Ron asked, giving Harry a significant look. Harry wasn't sure if it meant getting Dumbledore or Riddle. Either way, it wasn't worth it.

"No… no I'm alright now," Harry answered, shaking his head slightly. He tried his best smile to show he was fine. Dean and Neville seemed to be fine with that. Neville shuffled back to bed while Dean went over to his dresser.

"No point in trying to get back to bed. The sun will be up in a little bit," Dean grumbled, pulling out his robes.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead. He felt the sweat drip on the back of his neck and sighed. On the bright side he would have enough time to take a quick bath before classes.

Harry shuffled over to his dresser to grab his clothes. Ron yawned and followed Neville's example and went back to sleep. Harry rolled his eyes, knowing Ron was going to end up being late to class because of this. He was hard enough to wake up the first time, let alone a second time on the same day.

The common room was cleaned from the night before like usual, but unlike usual Dobby was over by one of the chairs, picking through some parchment left behind. Harry had to be sure he really was seeing Dobby though as the sun hadn't shined through the arched windows, nor was the fire big enough to see much. Harry wondered if he could go back up the stairs before Dobby saw him. It wasn't that he didn't like the house elf, but this morning wasn't starting off very well.

When Dobby turned around and said in quiet awe, "Mr. Harry Potter sir." Harry had to force a smile to his face, which seemed convincing since Dobby brightened up considerably.

Through talking to Dobby though, Harry did find out some information. Namely, exactly where they could have their meetings in private on the seventh floor. He also found out that apparently due to Hermione's insistence on hiding clothing around the common room had caused Dobby to be the only house elf who would clean it up at night. Harry found himself smiling for real at the house elf by the end of the conversation. Even when Harry found him annoying, he still couldn't dislike Dobby. He always seemed so happy to help.

When Hermione came out of the girl's dorm, Harry jumped. He didn't realize so much time had passed by.

'So much for that bath', Harry thought, trudging back up the stairs to grab his books for the classes ahead.

The school day went by much as most of them have. Harry did find himself nodding off during Professor Binns's lesson but that was to be expected on even good days. Harry also wasn't the only one as about half the class was also nodding off. Watching the dust twirl in the sin beams coming from the windows was sometimes more entertaining than listening to Professor Binns talk. Harry fought back another yawn. By that time in the day, Harry forgot all about his scar hurting that morning.

In between classes though, Harry's day started to pick back up. Angelina ran down the hall towards Harry with her long robes bellowing in her wake. Harry almost backed up into the wall, worried that she was going to beat him for doing something, though Harry hadn't a clue what that could possibly be. Angelina barreled through a couple of students who all shouted back at her as they continued their way towards their next classes.

"Harry!" she shouted and came to a stop in front of Harry. Angelina was breathing hard and took a moment before looking up at him. She beamed at him and held up a piece of parchment to his face. "We can practice again!"

"What?" Harry asked, nearly cross eyed trying to read the words. Angelina snatched it away before he could, but her smiling made even his tired brain catch up to what was being said. "We can play?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," she huffed. "Professor Umbridge came around this morning and dropped it off with Madam Hooch. She gave it to me to get the rest of the team gathered. I want to start practicing this evening since we're so far behind everyone."

"That's great news!" Harry exclaimed, feeling his cheeks hurt with smiling so much and a floating warmth in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he would think he was flying on his broom already. "Have Fred and George been told yet?"

"No yet. I have class with them next," she explained, before throwing her arm over Harry's shoulder. She pulled him in tight. "Now, I have to ask you a favor."

"What's that?" he asked, his smiling falling at her face.

"Don't get Umbridge angry. She may take away our practice time," Angelina said seriously, her lips pursed. Harry felt the hand on his shoulder tightened as well, his robes bunching under her finger tips.

"I… I'll do my best," Harry answered.

"Good. Don't be late to practice," she said, patting his shoulder now. She released her hold and looked him over. Seemingly satisfied with whatever she saw, she nodded at him and went down the hall way towards her next class.

Harry stood stuck in place for a few moments longer, watching her back disappear back into the crowd of students in the hallway. He really wished Ron was here since no one was really going to believe him.

The rest of the day went by quickly since Harry had something to look forward to now. Despite being tired, Harry went to the pitch happier than he had been in weeks. Riddle had passed Harry in the halls on his way to practice.

"I expect sonnets, Mr. Potter," Riddle said to him with a slight smirk on his face.

"You?" Harry asked, already feeling his lips tug into a smile. "You got us permission?"

"The tempting offer of songs sung in my name was too much to pass," Riddle responded, somehow sounding every bit as serious as he was in class. The only give away was the gleam in his eye.

"I'll get everyone on it," Harry responded, grinning up at Riddle.

"Make sure you do," Riddle said with a raised eye brow. He nodded at Harry, clasping his hands behind his back. "Mr. Potter."

"Professor," said Harry, nodding back. That feeling of warmth spread across his chest once again. Riddle turned and walked towards Dumbledore's office, nodding towards other students on the way. Harry turned on his heel and ran down to the pitch, realizing his was about to be late for their first practice.

He was so wrapped up in practicing that evening, he almost forgot about the meeting on the seventh floor.

From there, the next few weeks went by in a blur of activity. They had their first meeting for defense, calling themselves Dumbledore's Army, or DA for short. Then, Ron getting onto the Quidditch team which made Harry happy to share the sport with his best friend. The nightly meetings with Riddle had stopped for the past week, which on one hand was great since Harry already had homework, Quidditch practice, and now the DA to worry about, but on the other… he missed talking to someone who understood what Harry was going through. It was times like this that Harry started to miss Sirius even more.

Hedwig had healed from her wing injury as well. Though, now Harry knew Umbridge was watching the post. He had to hold himself back from seething at the woman a few times, thinking of what she had done to Hedwig.

The day of the first match against Slytherin started out like most days. The sun came in from the arched windows into the rooms, softening the golds and reds of the room. The quiet of the castle hadn't broken yet, and Harry felt himself wake up refreshed. The slight chill in the air made gooseflesh raise on his arms. He stuck them back under the blanket while awaiting the urge to get out of bed to start the day.

Harry and Ron had made it through the day, chattering to each other about the game. Mainly Harry trying to calm Ron's nerves as this was one of the bigger games. Any time they faced Slytherin it was always a hard match. Hermione was seemingly unaffected by the whole thing, finishing up some homework while they talked strategy over breakfast. Before either of them knew it, they were playing the game, and won the match. Though, Riddle might have been disappointed to hear the only song sung was a chorus from Slytherin against Ron.

The match ended with George and Harry hitting Malfoy for his slurs against Mrs. Weasley and Harry's mother. Both of them were marched into the Head of House's office where Madam Hooch had let into them until Umbridge came in to offer her thoughts on their punishment. Harry, Fred, and George were given lifelong bans on playing Quidditch.

Despite Riddle having Umbridge practically wrapped around his finger, Harry doubted even he could get Umbridge to release the ban on them. Though he did inquire once, but by the expression Riddle made, Harry could tell it was a lost cause.

The only thing that made the week slightly bearable was Hagrid's return to school. Despite the bruising, Hagrid promised he was just fine. Harry was happy to have him back, even though he now dreaded Hagrid having to pass one of Umbridge's horrible inspections. Hermione made a few tries to 'help' with his lessons plans. Which didn't seem to go as well as any of them had hoped. Their first lesson with Umbridge inspecting had gone horribly when Hagrid taught them about Thestrals.

Their next DA meeting went well, though. Cho gave Harry a kiss as well, which was very nice Harry thought, but she was also crying at the time. According to Hermione, somehow that was normal. Harry thought she might be a bit off the mark on this one.

That night Harry lay in his bed listening to the sounds of Neville lightly snoring and an owl hooting somewhere out in the night. The past month had gone by in such a rush, he hardly believed they were almost to Christmas. The chill hanging around the castle at nights now clung through morning. Harry snuggled under his blanket some more to retain the heat. If the moon wasn't covered with clouds, Harry would bet he could see the light snowfall that was sure to be out.

Harry closed his eyes, slipping off to sleep.

His dreams started off back in the Room of Requirement where Cho was yelling at him about chocolate frogs. He was going to explain he couldn't possibly have that many on his person, when the dream faded on him. The last he saw of it was Christmas decorations shaped like Dobby's head being hung up around the room…

His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He glided across a cool marble floor on his belly between metal bars, across the dark, cold stone… Harry distantly felt like someone had joined him. Their bodies moved like one and he could almost feel the other person tugging on him, trying to pull him away. It didn't matter, Harry continued forward down the corridor.

There was a man there… drowsing… Harry could smell him on his tongue…

When he approached the man, his eyes were closing as he nodded off in his chair.

'Harry' a voice was heard calling in the distance. Harry wanted to respond to it, call back. When he tried to sit up, he couldn't. All he could do was follow his serpent body as it struck the man.

Blood. There was blood everywhere.

"Harry! HARRY!"

Harry came to consciousness and realized distantly the horrible screaming that rung in his ears was his own. His whole body was covered in icy sweat with his sheets twisted around him like snake. His forehead was on fire, as his scar throbbed in time with his frantic heartbeat.

" _HARRY_!" Ron yelled, shaking Harry's shoulders and looking extremely pale. Harry could spot him through his fingers, as his hands clutched his forehead in pain.

"He looks really ill," said Neville, his voice shaking. Harry couldn't tell where he was, but there were shadows near the end of his bed. "Should we call someone?"

Harry swallowed down the bile that threatened to come up. He recognized the man in his dream. He had to tell Ron.

"Your dad," Harry panted, grasping at Ron. He heaved himself up trying to show Ron how urgent this was. "Your dad's been attacked."

"What?" Ron asked, his brows pinched. "What are you talking about?"

Harry tried to tell him, there was blood everywhere. During his explanation Neville ran off to fetch someone, but apparently, he shouldn't have even bothered. As Harry was trying to explain to an uncomprehending Ron what was going on, Riddle came in the room with his hair wild, and his eyes wide. He ran to Harry's side, nearly pushing Ron out of the way.

"Potter," was all he said, and Harry  _knew_. Their eyes connected and unlike the many times where it made his scar hurt worse, this time it soothed the pain. Harry reached out a hand and grabbed Riddle's dressing gown.

"Ron's dad… it was Ron's dad," said Harry, feeling his throat constrict while attempting to talk. "The snake attacked him."

"Mate, it was just a  _dream_ ," Ron said in a weak voice, glancing between Harry and Riddle now. He looked ready to cry. He fixed his eyes on Riddle. "It was just a dream,  _right_?"

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, put on your dressing-gown," said Riddle sternly. "We're going to the headmaster."

Harry leapt from his bed, put on his gown, and shoved his glasses on. Ron was putting his gown on with shaking hands. They walked out of the room leaving Neville, Dean, and Seamus looking very worried in their wake. The common room was still dark and even the distant owls couldn't be heard anymore. The Fat Lady was awake though, grumbling about Professors barging into places late at night.

Harry felt the panic inside him curl up in his stomach. He wanted to run, and shout, do something. He wanted to shake Riddle's arm and demand he do something this moment! Mr. Weasley could be bleeding out at this very moment for all they knew. The fangs... Harry's fangs could have been poisonous...

Riddle looked over at him as though he could hear those thoughts.

"Nagini isn't venomous," Riddle said softly as he continued his brisk pace to Dumbledore's office. Harry found himself staring for a moment. "Voldemort's snake… she's a constrictor. They aren't venomous."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked Riddle before clutching at Harry's gown. "What's he talking about?"

"Nagini attacked your dad," Harry whispered back, feeling a shiver run through his whole body. From his point of view, he was the snake… was Nagini. The flash of blood from Mr. Weasley as Harry struck pierced through his mind. Acid touched the back of his throat, causing him to pinch his lips to keep it down.

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, looking between the two. When Harry failed to answer right away he looked at Riddle. "How does he know that?"

"All will be explained, but first we have to get someone to help your father," Riddle answered, stepping in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Fizzing Whizbee."

The gargoyle sprang to the side and the wall behind it split to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continuously upward. The three of them stepped on, with Ron still hanging onto Harry the whole time. Even though it was well past midnight by now, there were sounds coming from Dumbledore's office. Fawkes was asleep with his head under one of his beautiful gold and red wings. When they entered further into the office they could see Dumbledore sat in his chair behind his desk in a magnificently embroidered purple and gold dressing gown over a snowy-white nightshirt. Around him, the other portraits were chatting back and forth, then paused when Riddle stepped into the room.

"Oh, Professor Thomason and…  _ah_."

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles at them. The candlelight flickered across his features for a moment.

"Albus, you must send someone to find Mr. Weasley's father," Riddle said at once, his calm voice smoothing Harry's nerves. "Mr. Potter has seen Nagini attack him. It's quite urgent."

"I see," Dumbledore said, springing into action. He whispered something to Fawkes, who disappeared in a burst of flames. He was dashing back and forth talking to portraits, and occasionally asking questions to them. Riddle would answer before Ron or Harry had a chance, keeping his voice calm but urgent.

Harry wasn't sure exactly why he was brought to the office as Riddle seemed to be answering all the questions for him. Dumbledore also refused to meet his eyes, which prickled at Harry even further. It took a few minutes before it was confirmed by one of the portraits that Mr. Weasley was being transported to be taken care of at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

"Tom, I need you to wake up the other Weasley children and bring them. They should know as well," Dumbledore asked.

"I agree, but I won't leave Mr. Potter's side," Riddle responded, standing close to Harry. When the chairs had been conjured for them to sit, Riddle instead stood like a pillar next to them.

"I see," Dumbledore answered, nodding slightly. There was a pause where they just looked at each other. "I will send Madam Hooch then."

Harry glanced up at Riddle. It was perhaps the first-time Harry had ever seen him so serious faced. His lips were pinched closed so hard that they were almost white. His nostrils flared when though Riddle wasn't taking any deep breaths, and his hand was on the back of Harry's chair. Harry only noticed the warm then, feeling the ball of tension in his stomach slowly unwind. Harry thought Ron could use more support than him right now, but he was grateful for it.

"Tom, I must ask you to stay in Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, looking at Riddle. Harry felt a prickle on the back of his neck. "Please."

" _Albus_ ," Riddle started his hand clutching at the chair. "You know I cannot leave him alone. Not right now."

"He won't be alone," Dumbledore answered, looking over his spectacles at Riddle. "I'm sure the Order can keep him safe for the time being."

"I'm sure you think they can, but this is becoming a serious matter," Riddle began before Harry interrupted.

"I don't need someone to protect me or coddle me," Harry snapped, not liking being talked about as though he wasn't there. Dumbledore looked down, and the hand on his chair left. "If anyone needs comforting at the moment, it's Ron, and his siblings. Mr. Weasley was the one attacked, not me."

"Quite right," Dumbledore mumbled looking rather contrite. He then looked over at Ron, who was still rather pale. "I must apologize Mr. Weasley. Harry is right, we should be focusing on you and your family."

"It's alright," Ron muttered, his eyes wide. He looked over at Harry, who offered his hand. Ron's hand went into his and they sat closer together. The heat from their shoulders and clasped hands fought against the night chill that pervaded the castle.

Conversations died then as everyone waited. Before he knew it, all the Weasleys were brought up to the office and they were being sent to Sirius's house. The last thing Harry saw of the office was Fawkes returning in a burst of flames, and Dumbledore asking Riddle to head off Umbridge before she made it to the office. Riddle's expression became sour, but he looked up at Harry for a moment.

It couldn't have been more than a second before Harry's scar burned white-hot, and without warning a feeling of wanting to lash out at Riddle rose. Harry's teeth ached to bite the man in front of him and tear through his flesh - _how dare he ruin my plans_ \- to snarl in fierce hatred.

Before anything could be done though, Harry was whizzing away, transported to his Godfather's house. The jerking sensation only lasted a moment before Harry hit the ground hard and found himself in the basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

 


	12. Of Bread and Blood Quills

Tom Riddle felt his hand twitch towards his thigh as he watched Harry and the Weasley children disappear. He paused for a moment to stare at the spot where they vanished before turning on his heel to deal with his end of the bargain. He quickly stepped out of the office just as Umbridge hurried her stubby legs down the hall. She was still in a pink dressing gown and a stray curling roll bobbed against her neck as she jogged towards him. Tom raised his head to her and smiled. If his smile was a bit tighter than normal, Umbridge failed to notice.

"Good evening Dolores," said Tom in one of his warmest voices. He kept his eyes averted from her, looking just over her shoulder. Without waiting for her to respond "Are you here to discuss the possible mental health check on problem students as well?"

"Oh?" she questioned coming to a stop near him. It was at this moment Tom noticed the caretaker's cat peering around the corner. That certainly explained quite a bit. Umbridge gathered herself and in a calm but breathless voice, "I wasn't aware of such a conversation."

Tom tilted his head a bit as though he was confused. "Oh, I thought I informed you during tea last week that I would bring our concerns to Albus's attention."

"It must have slipped my mind," she responded still trying not to sound so flustered. Tom saw her beginning to think more on their last conversation which prompted him to barrel on.

"Well, you're a busy woman Dolores. I couldn't possibly expect you to remember every little thing I say," Tom answered, smiling in a way that made Dolores blush. "I discussed with Albus that we have experienced such instability with some of the students. He thought it best to ask them and their classmates about it as well. Some idea that other children might know more than us."

"Did he?" Umbridge asked in a quiet voice that was released through her teeth. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "And why would he do it so late at night I wonder."

"I did insist we wait until morning when we all had a clear head but you understand my plight. My job is after all, only temporary," Tom bemoaned and let out a slight put upon sigh. "As someone who could lose their job quite easily I was disinclined to argue."

Tom watched as her suspicion turned into anger on his behalf. Her fat fists balled up as she vowed to him that she would make sure he kept his job. She even went as far to promise there would be a law against unjust firing of Professors who clearly were excellent at their jobs.

He merely gave her a curious look.

"Well, we'll have to discuss this with him. Are the children still in his Office?" Asked Umbridge, her face still pink with anger.

"I doubt it, since he seemed to take their word," answered Tom, already walking down the hall. Umbridge followed him just as he hoped. "Now, we must really discuss what we want to do about this."

He managed to get her back to her office and away from Dumbledore for the time being. Tom knew that there would be repercussions for his actions this night and he hoped Dumbledore could take the lashing. He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of Dumbledore having more of a disadvantage against the Ministry but nothing could be done about it. If Dumbledore insisted on keeping both him and Harry in Hogwarts, there was always going to be conflict.

Tom found himself back in his room. He rarely ever displayed his emotions so openly as he did this night. For the first time in years he ran a hand through his hair and pinched his eyes shut.

"What am to do?" He asked the empty room. No voice came to tell him the answer. The castle itself was utterly silent this night despite the turmoil that was caused not an hour ago.

He took several deep breaths as he stared at his wall of research. He barely had time to update anything on the wall in the past week, something that hasn’t happened in years. Tom prided himself on being diligent on his research. He turned away from it quickly and instead shuffled through his things as he remained deep in thought.

Tom knew it was no use to try to get back to sleep this night. The lingering thoughts of not being able to pull Harry from Nagini's mind caused him to frown. Thoughtlessly, Tom summoned a cup of tea for himself and gulped down the still too hot liquid. He ruffled through his few items until he found what he was looking for.

The shapeless bag seemed like a coin purse, barely bigger than his hand. He set his cup down on his messy side table, not minding the drop or two that spilled over. He pulled at the opening rim with both hands and the bag extended wide like an opening mouth. Tom continued to pull at it until the opening was bigger than his forearm. He then stuffed some of his clothes into the bag that didn’t seem big enough to fit more than a few coins. Robe after robe was stuffed into the opening. Tom snapped his fingers and several books came flying from their place in his room and shuffled into his bag.

Once it seemed many of his items had gone into the magical bag, he closed the bag. It returned to its small size once more and Tom stuffed it into his pocket. He patted the area as though feeling its weight was a comfort. He reached over and grabbed his cup and drank the rest of it before it disappeared with a _POP_.

Tom ran his fingertips over his thigh where a curious Yew wand hid from sight. He took another steady breath and started straightening his robes. He wanted to look presentable when he brought his concerns to Dumbledore. There was little doubt in his mind that Dumbledore would agree with his modest proposal. After all, it was him who purposed Tom being so close to the boy.

A house elf was in his office when Tom exited his room. He peered at the curious creature as it turned to him, its floppy ears wagging about as it bowed deeply to him. This was not the first-time Tom had encountered the elf.

"Master Thomason sir," it squeaked in reverence. Its ear dragging on the ground below with how low it was bowing.

"What do we have for breakfast today?" Tom asked, pulling his day cloak around his shoulders. He learned quickly to not suggest he wanted a certain item or else they would grow upset if that wasn't immediately available. It was best to leave it open ended.

"We has fresh baked bread, toast, and jam just how Master likes," said the little creature. It finally raised from its bow and brought the tray over to Tom. Tom took a piece of toast and smoothed on a layer of jam on it with a knife.

"You spoil me," Tom said inhaling the scent of the warm bread that filled his office for a few moments before taking a bite of toast. The elf practically had a fit over Tom's obvious pleasure. "I'm on a tight schedule, so don't worry about lunch. I will have it in the hall. I may not be here for dinner, so do not fuss."

"Of course sir," the elf squeaked, bowing again, this time its nose dusted the floor.

Tom didn't wait for anything else, instead grabbed the roll of bread and left. He was aware of Dumbledore’s lack of sleeping. The Headmaster would be as restless as Tom this day. He made his way back to Dumbledore's office, chewing thoughtfully.

"No foods in the halls," called Peeves, the residential prankster ghost. He floated up above Tom and wagged his finger at him. "I should tattle on you."

"What food?" Tom responded, tilting his head up at the ghost. He leaned in and shoved the rest of the roll into his mouth. He gave an innocent look to Peeves with his cheeks still filled with his breakfast.

Peeves let out a raspberry at Tom before he went whizzing down the hall chattering about Professors and their lack of respect for authority. It might have been believable if Peeves wasn’t cackling as he did so. Tom heard the distant yelp of a student who probably had the misfortune to have the ghost pass through her.

Tom found himself huffing a breath in humor before chewing the rest of the bread as he continued his way. He remembered Peeves from his time at Hogwarts. The easiest way to get the ghost to leave is by making him laugh. If someone shouted at him, it only made him worse.

The hall was still rather empty for the early hours with just hints of sunlight peeking through the windows. Many of the portraits still snooze on the wall, giving Tom a rare treat of walking through a hall of snoring. He wrapped his cloak a little closer.

For the second time this day Tom was in front of the gargoyle that guarded the door to the Head master's office. He continued up the steps towards the office and heard a few voices. It didn’t surprise Tom in the least that Dumbledore was once again consulting his Portraits in this matter, what was surprising was Snape’s voice.

Tom paused for a moment on the steps before continuing into the familiar room.

“I believe we have another guest,” Dumbledore said as Tom rounded the corner. Snape whipped around quickly and his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Tom. Albus waved him in and Tom joined Snape in the office.

“We were just discussing what to do about the incident,” Dumbledore clasped his hands together, looking over at the two Professors in front of him. “I believe you have some thoughts.”

“Indeed,” Tom answered, straightening up under both sets of eyes. “I think it’s best I stay close to the boy during this time. It is only natural that I could assist with defending him physically and mentally.”

“What makes _you_ so sure?” Snape argued, his arms crossing. “You seem awfully confident for a man who has left so little impact that no one has even heard your name before.”

Tom supposed that would have been a rather big insult if it were true. Unfortunately for Snape, Tom was well known only by a completely different name. Tom smothered the smile that threatened to bloom on his face, but not quickly enough if Snape’s raised eyebrow was anything to go by. Tom took a moment before responding.

“I have spent many years isolated in research,” he started, tilting his chin up. “In fact, longer than I suspect you have been alive my dear Severus.”

“Age and books do not mean being wise,” Snape snapped at him, looking at him almost from down the end of his large nose. “I would call into question your decisions to teach your students advanced transfiguration.”

“What’s wrong with them learning more?”

“Oh, nothing,” Snape started, letting out a little smirk as he did so. “Just, I believe you’ve only taught one lesson that relates to the O.W.L.s. It will be interesting to see if a single student of yours will even get an Acceptable this year. It is curious how a man so absentminded he cannot teach the proper exam lessons to his class, thinks he can defend Potter from the Dark Lord.”

Tom turned completely towards the other man, forgetting that Dumbledore was even still in the room. If Tom bothered to look, he would see a most curious expression on the Headmaster’s face as he watched the two men bicker. Instead, Tom focused all his attention on the dark-haired man in front of him.

Tom looked him over for a moment, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he took in the man. He watched as that smirk slowly lowered into a frown with his assessment.

“I would be careful who exactly you insult,” Tom said in a perfectly measured tone. “You’re likely to run into a person who wouldn’t understand your charm one day.”

“You” -Snape started with a snarl but was cut off by Dumbledore who held up his hand to calm the feud. Snape clenched his jaw and his fingers tightened on his robes but he did remain silent.

Dumbledore’s eye went between the two for a moment, most likely making sure neither were going to continue to insult each other. The portraits who had remained silent, started murmuring amongst themselves. Tom could hear snippets of them whispering how disrespectful both were being. Tom lowered his head slightly, taking in the criticism. Snape on the other hand, just soured more.

“The place that Harry resides can only be accessed by a small group of people,” Dumbledore started, making sure this point was driven. “All of those are high members of the Order.”

“Potter needs guidance to block his mind and resolve. He also needs greater protections now that Voldemort,” Tom ignored Snape’s hiss. “is aware of his influence. If you would allow me there to protect him, I think we would both feel safer,” Tom argued, jutting his chin out. “If you are not available to watch him, I am the next best person.”

Snape let out a quiet huff and Tom ignored it.

“While I can agree Harry could use guidance on blocking his mind from Voldemort” -Snape rubbed his forearm absently at this but made no vocal comment before Dumbledore continued- “I would worry about your safety as well as his. You are just as vulnerable if he knows you’re here.”

“Albus,” Tom looked up at the Headmaster. “I assure you I would be safe. I can protect myself and Potter from him.”

“How could you accomplish that feat?” Snape questioned. “The Dark Lord is not like any other Dark Wizard. He knows magic you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“I’m aware of he is different from any other before him, Severus.”

“You don’t seem to be, _Magnus_ ,” Snape leaned back slightly as though to look over Tom with a raised eyebrow. It was the first time anyone called Tom by his fake first name. He was impressed despite himself. “You seem to think this is all just an inconvenience to your day. When I saw you with Potter, Granger, and the Weasley boy, I knew you were carrying on as though they are your friends, not your students.”

“Just because-“

“They are not your friends, and this is not a game,” Snape snapped, leaning into Tom’s space. Tom flinched back slightly under the presence. “Every time you provide information to Potter, you put him at risk. There are reasons we don’t share every piece of information with him. He’s hot headed and will jump head long into things he knows little about. We’ve carefully spent years making sure he only knows enough to remain safe. Then you stumble into here, and divulge every secret we let slip to you.”

Snape loomed over Tom for a moment longer and whispered, “You are a danger.”

The room became quiet. Even the portraits who were chattering about the men arguing paused. Tom could feel the hot breath from Snape’s words on his face, though he felt like a punch could have hurt significantly less. Tom’s cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed at the man. Before he could say a single thing, a loud crack echoed in the room.

All three turned to look at a jar that exploded on Dumbledore’s shelves. The liquid seeped out of the broken glass and onto the floor, hissing when it made contact. Tom backed a few steps away from Snape as he stared at the broken bits. He took a few calming breaths as he glanced at Dumbledore who stared at the jar for another moment before turning to Tom.

“I believe,” Dumbledore started slowly and quietly. “That Severus should train Harry instead.” He held up at hand when Tom opened his mouth to speak. “This is not open to discussion. I decided that before you even entered the room. I was rather hoping you had some other insight, but I think it’s best we continue this conversation at a later date.”

Tom looked at the two. Dumbledore was very somber as his kind eyes watched Tom. Snape on the other hand, seemed as though he won a prize with the little smirk on his face. Tom took a moment, before straightening once more. He patted down his robes as though to smooth the wrinkles in them, feeling rather foolish when his hands went over his luggage pouch, and then clasped his hands together in front of him.

“I see,” he said with a nod towards the Headmaster. He pinched his lips for a moment and then, “Are we still on for tea this weekend?”

“Of course,” Dumbledore responded, nodding back. He walked over to Tom and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. His hand gentle and his voice soft, “You are always welcomed in my office, my dear friend.”

“And for that I am grateful,” Tom replied, his hand coming up and laying on Dumbledore’s shoulder. They stood locked for a moment, before releasing each other. Tom looked over at Snape, who just seemed uncomfortable with being witness to the moment between the two men. “I will take heed in your words Severus. Sometimes, I can overlook my own flaws when trying to do the right thing.”

Snape just lowered his head a fraction.

Without another word to either man Tom walked calmly from the office. His strolled down the hallway and only picked up his pace when he neared the third corridor. He ignored the few greetings he received from the students in the halls as he finally made it to his rooms. He took in a deep breath when he opened his Office door, his eyes falling shut when his nose caught the smell of bread still lingering. His heart calmed down and he felt his body relax. He took a step in and closed the door behind him.

He didn’t emerge again until it was time for class.

Umbridge was on a warpath throughout the day. Tom listened rather absentmindedly at lunch as she fumed over Dumbledore. Well, fumed in her distinctly passive aggressive way. Tom nodded at the right moments, and barely touched his food. He drifted through his classes and had his students practice all the spells he had taught them this year instead of anything new. He had been planning something a bit more adventurous however, he feared Snape was correct. He had been teaching only what he wanted and not what was going to be on the exams. The only problem was, Tom only had advanced magic books in his collection.  

Like most afternoons he did spent his free time in the library. He waved at the Madam Pince on his way in. She narrowed her eyes at him instead and continued to stalk down the aisle where a few students went down with some books in their hands. He had little doubt that those students were going to get yelled at quite soon. Tom darted down another way before she could come check on him, as she usually did. Tom had a habit of taking books and returning them much later than he should. He only got away with it because he offered Pince some books from his private collection.

When he made his way down to a section where typical exam books were, he found a few students scattered around. He recognized two that were huddled together and when they saw him, they greeted him with a smile.

“Hello Professor,” Neville said in a quiet voice, already looking for Pince to come yell at him for making a noise. Luna merely looked up at him from her sitting position.

“Hello Mr. Longbottom,” Tom wandered closer to the group. “I was wondering if I could borrow that book.”

“This one?” Neville asked, displaying the front cover to him in confusion. It could not be every day that a Professor asked for _Most Common Spells for the Everyday Witch or Wizard_.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling. “I seem to have gotten some feedback on my lessons.”

“That they are advanced and difficult?” asked Luna, her bobbles jingling when she turned to Tom. Her face was serene though. “I like them.”

“Well,” Tom tilted his head slightly, shuffling his feet. “I’m glad to know they were challenging and fun.”

“I learned a lot in them even though I never saw the wand movements,” she responded, twirling her own wand around. “I did try to do some wandless but it’s much harder than it looks.”

“It took me over a decade to learn how to do spells wandless,” Tom answered with a wink. “But, I let people think it was easy.”

“Over a decade?” Neville straightened in his seat. “So, you weren’t a master at spells right away?”

“Oh, at wandless magic not so,” Tom answered before feeling the hairs on his neck stand up. He turned around and saw Madam Pince standing at the end of the aisle with her vulturelike stature staring at him. He resisted the urge to move away, instead he pulled out a chair beside Neville and sat. Tom was saved by a student laughing a few aisles over and Pince stalked off.

“She is rather scary,” Luna commented dreamingly with a smile on her lips.

“She can be,” Tom conceded and looked at Neville. “To the point Mr. Longbottom, very few wizards are ever born with great aptitude towards spell casting. It’s easy to get discouraged if you don’t succeed right away, but it’s worth noting those that make it look simple, have practiced when no one was looking.”

“I never thought of it like that,” Neville whispered, looking down at his hands for a few moments.

“Everyone needs practice,” Luna said, nodding. “Is that why you need the book Professor? To practice the O.W.L. spells?”

“In a manner, yes,” he answered, lacing his hands together and twiddling his thumbs. “When I perform most of my spells without a wand, it takes time to relearn spells. Even the greatest wizards need to brush up on occasions.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me,” Tom gave a slow nod. Neville handed over the book to him. He spent a few more minutes chatting with them, and a few other students came over to chat. Tom did have to break it up when Pince came around again, screeching at them that group studies were forbidden, even if a Professor was part of it. Tom tucked the book under his arm and headed back to his office to study.

He crossed paths with Snape on his way. While heading to the staircase, Snape was coming down the hall. Tom decided to wait a moment for Snape to clear the area before continuing. He didn’t need to be near the man any more today. When Neville and Luna came out of the library heading towards the dining hall, they stopped to wave to Tom. He smiled at them as they thanked him for chatting to them. When Tom looked back down the hall to see if it was safe, he found Snape looking at him with that telling expression. Tom clenched his hand and went through the hall with his head held high.

It wasn’t until well after dinner that Tom emerged once again into the hallways of Hogwarts. The halls were bare of students and the night chill was just starting to creep in.  

He made his way towards the library moving quickly and his movements jerky. The book under his arms had bits of parchment sticking out with notes written on them in haste. By the time he got all the way across the castle, just as he worried, the library was closing. Madam Pince gave him a withering look.

“I need two books for lessons tomorrow,” he pleaded.

“Then you best come early tomorrow,” Pince said, locking the library off while keeping her eyes on Tom the whole time. She then turned on her heel and walked off towards her own rooms.

Tom took a deep breath and turned slowly back towards his room. This time, at a much slower pace. He nodded towards a few students he saw along the way. He was almost to the main staircase when two students dashed past him. Tom looked over his shoulder and watched their robes billow behind them. When he rounded the corner, he saw Umbridge coming down the hallway. He wished he took the dashing students as a warning to not continue down the hall.  

“Oh, Thomason,” Umbridge said when she spotted him. She quickly made her way over to him. “I was just wondering if you had some time to discuss recent events?”

“For you, of course,” Tom answered, putting on a smile, but his hand tightened on the book.

Tom listened to her prattle on about the students and what she thought they could use for future lessons in the school. Tom let himself be lead into Umbridge’s sickeningly pink and kitten pictured filled office. He sat across from her in a plush chair, eyeing the chocolate cakes, and pasties sitting on silvered platters around her desk. The room felt almost like a parody. Even the tea she served him was too sweet, but he sipped at it none the less. He did refuse the candies. 

“I mean, we can’t have students just disappearing into the night,” Umbridge said then with her pinky out as she sipped her own tea before continuing. “What do you think?”

“Hmm?” Tom questioned, tilting his head. “Well, my thoughts are Albus is perhaps too well into his position. He seems to forget there are other authorities he needs to adhere to.”

“Quite right,” Umbridge said with a sharp nod. “He thinks just because he has been in charge for so long, that he should run everything. The lying last summer to get his favorite student out of trouble, and then continuing with it. The Minister won’t have it.”

“For good reason.”

“I have it on good authority to oust him from this school,” Umbridge continued, working herself up. “These students are unruly, hard headed, and stubborn. He allows half-breeds to run around teaching with dangerous animals. Unintelligent beasts,” She practical spit out. “Especially that Potter boy.”

“He does seem to get into more trouble than usual,” Tom answered, shifting in his seat. He leaned forward and poured some tea into his cup to try and make it less sweet. He took a sip and found it to only be slightly better than before.

“I’ve given him detention but it never seems to really sink in,” she hissed, clenching her fists. 

“As have I,” Tom took another sip and spotted a very familiar looking old leather bound book on her shelves trapped between two flowered vases. His lips pinched.   

“What he needs is a heavier hand,” Umbridge continued and in her vigor, had released a few of her curls. She absently brushed them away. “Don’t you agree? These punishments have been too soft. Banning him from Quidditch only gave him more free time to scheme against us. Giving him detention only makes him feel like he’s being defiant. There is no end to his arrogance.”

“As you said, he is rather hard headed,” Tom fidgeted some more in his chair. Then he gently purposed, “Perhaps we’re looking at it wrong? Maybe we should focus our attention on Albus, the root cause.”

“Oh, he is certainly the _cause,_ allowing these children to continue on as they have,” she all but squeaked out, attempting to keep that girlish voice, but clenching her own cup. “I will get my lesson to stick to Potter one way or another.”

“Which lesson is that?” he questioned looking up at the clock.

“He must not tell lies,” she said sweetly now, with a mocking smile on her face. “It has barely started to sink in, but soon it will no longer fade. I will have him in detention until the end of the year, if that’s what it takes to get it to stay.”

“Stay?” He stirred his cup some more, and started to bring it to his lips.

“Why, on his hand,” Umbridge giggled, her smile turning nasty. “Blood quills work best when trying to really drive home a lesson.”

Tom stops.

Umbridge seemed not to notice since she had caught her stride. “I have ordered another dozen or so in from special to make sure I have enough. I will get these children to listen-“

“Pardon?”

Umbridge looked up from her cup and paused. She blinked a few times at him as she saw his posture for the first time since mentioning her tool for detention. Tom was utterly still, his cup half way to his mouth. What caught her more off guard were his eyes. They were locked on hers and completely focused. Umbridge had the oddest feeling swelling up in her stomach causing her to shift in her seat.

They sat for a moment longer. The only sound in the room was the meowing cat pictures and the ticking of the clock.

“You,” Tom started, his voice very steady, and sharp. “Used a Blood Quill on Potter?”

“Well, the detentions I have with my students are private-“ but Umbridge was cut off.

“Yes or no, Dolores.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair again and with shaking hands placed her cup onto her desk. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally let out a sound.

“Yes,” she answered then rushed to explain to the man she had come to admire, “I know it’s banned in many places but honestly it can be used for effective means to teach these unruly students that we will not tolerate their behavior.”  

“Dolores,” Tom tutted, but there was no humor to be found in his face. “What am I to do with you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she squeaked out, practically jumping in her chair when Tom stood up and stalked towards her. She backed up in her chair, the wheels shrilling as she did so.  “What are you doing?”

Tom tilted his head with a serpent’s grace, his eyes cold as they gazed down at the woman below him. He did not answer her. Instead he looked her over with an emotionless blank stare, slowly leaning himself onto the corner of her desk, effectively blocking any attempt to escape from his presence while doing so. Umbridge was frozen in her chair. The mewing of the kitten pictures all around her office did little to quell the creeping fear making its way up her spine.

“I think,” he started in a whisper. “It’s time for you to learn a few things, Dolores.”

“N-now I’ll have you know the Ministry will hear of this!” She shrilled, her breathing erratic at this point. She jutted her chin up and in the calmest voice she could muster, “You’ll be in Azkaban by morning for this. Attempting assault on a Ministry Official. Your career will be over. I’ll make sure-“

Umbridge’s voice was cut off suddenly. Her eyes bulged out and her hands reached for her neck. She attempted to speak a few times but no voice came out. Only the ticking clock and the mewing kittens were heard. Tom stayed eerily silent. She looked up at him and noticed his hand was gently outstretched and his middle finger and thumb touched. He had cast a wandless silencing spell without ever uttering a single word.

Umbridge reached a hand for her short wand but it was already in Tom’s other hand. She pushed herself back, leaping from the chair. She went racing across the room, the whole time trying to let out a scream that would not come. Her hand grabbed the knob to her office door but it would not turn. She kicked the door, shook the knob a few times, and pounded on the door with her other hand.

“I think that’s enough of that,” Tom said in a condescending tone. His hand came to a rest on Umbridge’s shoulder and a blank look came over her face for a moment. He brought her back to her chair, and then released her as she crumpled into the seat. Her eyes cleared and she shook her head as though to clear it, before staring back up at him.

“Before we begin, there’s something I wish for you to keep in mind” Tom said softy, the hot anger in his heart masked by the coy smile that danced across his face. He circled behind her as he spoke, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“When I step out of this office,” he continued, “Only one of us will remember what has transpired.” Umbridge felt the tip of a wand tap gently against the side of her head. “But while we’re here I want you to consider every kind gesture, every sweet touch, and every fawning compliment that you have paid to me; and know just how wrong you were about me.” Tom’s hands released her shoulders and he glides around the front of her desk so that she can see him clearly.

“And now to begin today’s lesson. You see Dolores, Mr. Potter has not been telling lies,” he said in a pleasant voice.

At this, Tom flicked his hand up before Umbridge’s eyes. She had expected a short, stubby thing, her own wand, but it was instead it was bone white, carved of yew. He ran a finger over it, tracing its familiar shape like a loving pet. Umbridge began to shake her head, her eyes glued to the very infamous wand, and her mouth opening to let out a scream that would never come.

And for the first time that day, something went right for Tom Riddle.

In the dark hall outside Umbridge’s Office door, Mrs. Norris paused for a moment in her stalking as though she heard something. The halls remained quiet and the peace seemed to stay. She continued her prowl leaving the Office and its two occupants alone for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this story, please leave a kudos or a comment. Thank you!


	13. Lessons and Letters

Christmas had come and gone quickly for Harry. He had received interesting gifts this year. Notably he was given three books on defense; two from Sirius and Lupin, the last one was his _Defense for the Practical Wizard_ that Umbridge had taken from Harry months ago. He wasn’t sure how Riddle managed to get it back from the her, but he was grateful for it. Inside the book was a simple letter written in the cursive he’d come to know so well:

_Dear Mr. Potter_

_I hope your ‘break’ from Hogwarts has cleared your mind. If you ever have use, my office is always open for any questions you may have. Also, while I do not believe you will have a problem with Umbridge any longer, please do not flaunt the book near her. There are only so many times I can sway her opinion._

_Wishing you well,_

_-Your Favorite Riddle_

Harry snorted so loudly with laughter that Mrs. Weasley came upstairs to check on him. Harry quickly told her it was a joke he remembered that made him laugh, hiding the letter behind his back. She eyed him for a few moments before returning downstairs. When he showed Ron and Hermione the letter, their reactions were a bit different.

“He’s barking mad, isn’t he?” Ron got out around his laughter, clutching a side.

“That’s a bit dark,” Hermione muttered, frowning at the letter and then more so at Ron who laughed harder.

“It’s brilliant,” Ron said, sitting up and grinning at Harry, who was also chuckling. “I mean, he can’t write his real name, and if he writes his fake name, then everyone will think a Professor is favoriting him. Neither are good.”

Hermione stopped at looked at him like she had never seen him before.

“That’s… that’s really clever,” Hermione said slowly, still watching Ron, who was still smiling at the joke. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Well,” Harry started, folding the letter away to hide from anyone else. “Clever is unfortunately something both of him are good at.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ron offered, finally done with his laughter. He moved to gather his things as Harry had.

They were leaving that evening back to Hogwarts by the Knight Bus escorted by Tonks and Lupin. All three of them had gathered their belongings into bags. They had been told the day prior they were going back when Mr. Weasley was released from St. Mungo’s. They gathered around the front room and Harry turned to look at Sirius.

Ever since Snape came by the inform Harry he was going to teach him Occlumency and had called Sirius a coward, Sirius had a dark expression. Harry kept feeling a tight sensation in his stomach every time he looked at him, as though something terrible was going to happen. Whenever he thought about telling Sirius no one thought he was a coward, and to stay safe, he felt his feet freeze on him.

It wasn’t until they embraced in the front room just before leaving that Harry clutched him a little harder this time. Sirius slipped a package in his coat, asking him not to open it unless he needed him.

Their ride to Hogwarts was strangely uneventful. Fred and George were cracking jokes the whole time, despite the crazy ride. When they exited the Knight Bus in Hogsmeade, Harry was happy to get off. Ron seemed like he was going to be ill and Hermione’s hair was a big more bushy then before. Ginny also seemed a bit under the weather but Fred and George were on either side of her still smiling, so it was hard to tell if her legs were moving like jelly like Harry’s was.

The snow crunched under their boots as they marched up the slippery path to Hogwarts dragging their trunks behind them. Hermione was chatting away about knitting more of those awful hats, but Harry was barely paying attention. He kept looking around the grounds just in case something popped up. It wasn’t until they had made their way to the oak doors that Harry felt like he could breathe safely again.

The relief was short lived because the moment he opened to doors, he remembered what he had waiting for him. Umbridge and extra lessons with Snape. He honestly wasn’t sure which one was worse.

The only saving grace for the next day was Harry had run into Cho Chang again. Though he fumbled a bit, it seemed he had a date set up for Valentine’s Day with her. His spirits lifted a bit, but were then completely dashed after a horrible meeting with Snape on his very first Occlumency lesson going worse than even he thought it could be.

The only good thing he had discovered was exactly where that corridor in his dreams lead to. Having Snape invade his mind repeatedly had made him remember. During the summer when he had a trial at the Ministry, there was a place inside it called Department of Mysteries. The corridor was in that Department; Harry was sure of it. By how unnerved Snape seemed to be when Harry asked him about it, confirmed his suspicions.  He, of course, shared them with Hermione and Ron.

When they got back into the Gryffindor common room, Fred and George were demonstrating another one of their inventions. The whole room was filled with laughter and cheer, but Harry was feeling rather ill. He hadn’t felt right since he left Snape’s office.

When Harry felt the pain like his head was splitting in two, and manic laughter escaped his throat, something was very wrong. Voldemort was very happy. Probably happier than he had ever been. Harry was just lucky enough to have been in the Boy’s dormitory when it happened and only Ron was there.

Harry wondered what could have happened to make Voldemort so happy. He didn’t have to wait long since the Daily Prophet came in the next day and explained. Ten Death Eaters were broken out of Azkaban that night, all with a very dangerous history. If that wasn’t enough Bode, whom they met that Christmas in St. Mungo’s that was across from Lockhart’s bed, was killed. Someone had sent him Devil’s Snare, a plant that would constrict anyone who touched it.

It was hard for Harry to try to get down his breakfast. He looked up at the staff table. Dumbledore and Riddle were leaned towards one another in a deep conversation over the Daily Prophet. Professor Sprout had the paper open and seemed to not notice her food spilling from her spoon into her lap. Umbridge seemed to be eating with an angry fervor and kept glancing at Dumbledore and Riddle.

The day didn’t become any better when they found out that Umbridge had put Hagrid on probation due to getting a poor review on his lessons. They soon realized that all the Teachers were now fearing for their jobs, and a new Educational Degree was put up that Teachers could not talk about anything not related to their subjects, to their students. It seemed Umbridge only became viler while Harry was away, if that was possible.

It became a bit of a joke during Umbridge’s class when Lee Jordan pointed out that she couldn’t tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in her class since it wasn’t related to her subject. Harry had recommended the essence of murtlap when he saw Jordan’s hand bleeding from his detention.

Harry felt like it took entirely too long before his next lessons with Riddle. He couldn’t blame Riddle for not being able to talk to him in between classes, and Harry had been so busy trying to catch up with homework and the DA that he couldn’t stop by Riddle’s office. Harry at least wanted to thank him for getting his book back, and ask if Riddle had any more insight into what Voldemort might be up to in the Department of Mysteries.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione got to their Transfiguration class, they noticed a change in the students. Everyone coming into his class acted like they were breathing in fresh air for the first time. The hallways of Hogwarts had become a somber quiet since their return and the Daily Prophet article about the escapes from Azkaban. It was only truly noticeable how different it was when the whole classroom seemed brighter, there were smiles, and chatter happening. Harry glanced around, not having noticed how silent the rest of his other classes were until this moment.

Riddle swept into the room as he always did, his robes billowing in his wake, like a ship cutting through turbulent sea. He spun on his heel at the front and clasped his hands together.

“Welcome class,” he started and a chorus of ‘evening professor’ replied. His lips twitched and he shifted slightly. “Today, we’re going to go over some simple spells that will most likely be on the O.W.L.s at the end of the year. Since we’re coming closer to when your skills will be put to the test, quite literally, it’s important that we make sure any gaps are filed, and your spells are up to mark.”

Riddle pulled out a box filled with mice and had Seamus pass them around the classroom to practice some of their spells.

“Professor?” Dean asked, his hand raised while he did so.

“Yes Mr. Thomas?” Riddle asked, turning from the group he was inspecting.

“I was wondering what you thought of the escapes from Azkaban? How do you think they escaped?” Dean questioned, which made the whole room fall silent. It felt like even the few mice that were on the tables were also quiet while everyone waited for the answer.

Riddle straightened himself, and put a hand to his chin in thought.

“Well,” he started, frowning slightly. “If I had to guess, I would say they most certainly had outside help, and that cannot be good for anyone.”

“Is Sirius Black helping?” asked a student in the back and Harry felt his fist clench at the accusation.

“No,” Riddle said firmly. “If you escape, you do not go back.”

Harry wanted badly to point out that Sirius would never break out any Death Eaters but knew it wouldn’t help. Ron and Hermione passed him several looks that seemed to tell Harry they knew what he was thinking. The three of them remained silent on the subject. Harry could see Malfoy narrowing his eyes at Riddle with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him looking angry.

Harry wasn’t sure how Riddle was going to get out of discussing something outside his subject on this. He also wondered once again how Riddle has could get away with quite a bit this year right under Umbridge’s nose.

Then again, Voldemort did get a Death Eater in school last year, so it wasn’t that hard to imagine.

“I think,” Riddle continued, now making a show of slowly walking around the room. “That whoever did this, is just getting started.”

“What does that mean Professor?”

“Are there more Death Eaters?”

“Is the Ministry going to do anything?”

Riddle held up a hand and the questions stopped. The room grew quiet once more.

“When I started this class, I told all of you that dark times lay ahead,” Riddle began, lacing his hands together behind his back this time. “Well, they are approaching now. It is best that all of you be prepared and whatever you do, do not stop learning. I am forbidden from saying any more on the subject, and I will knock points off if asked further.” He turned to look at Harry for a moment “There is only so much even I can say.”

The class seemed to take that with a begrudging acceptance. While the chatter certainly did not stop, it wasn’t quiet as animated as before. Riddle, as always, went around the room during this lesson. He would stop by the tables one by one, chatting with the students for a moment before moving on. Gryffindor had earned twenty points by the end of class, which made Harry happy. What didn’t though, was that Riddle didn’t stop by their table during lessons. It wasn’t until the end of class that Harry finally got to speak to him at all.

“Professor?” Harry asked, shouldering his bag and approaching Riddle who had his back to Harry.

“You better run along,” Riddle said, fiddling with box the mice were in. “You don’t want to be late for your next class.”

“I just wanted to thank you,” Harry said quietly, looking around and making sure everyone but Ron and Hermione had left. The last of the students were already out the door. “For the book, and for… helping with you know.”

Riddle paused for a moment, and his shoulders rolled. He slowly turned more towards Harry, and Harry could finally see a bit of his face. He seemed a bit more pale than usual, with pink spots on his cheeks.

“I’m happy to have helped,” Riddle answered just as quietly. He turned back to the box, and twitched some more, shifting once more between the balls of his feet. He seemed to make a sudden decision and finally turned to face them. “Run along.”

“I will,” Harry said at once, smiling at Riddle. Their eyes still not quite connecting again but Harry left happier than he went in. He left the room without anything more to say and continued to his next class.   

It wasn’t long before the Educational Decrees made it impossible for even Riddle to talk about what was going on after the break outs in Azkaban. Harry was still impressed what he could get away with in class though, and Malfoy always showed up looking put upon. Harry guessed that he had shared with Umbridge what was going on but Umbridge told him off for it. It seemed to have soured the Slytherin’s attitudes towards her.

With classes continuing as normal now, Harry found he was quickly losing track of time. He had been teaching his own secret lessons in the DA. He was impressed with how quickly Neville was catching up to everyone else, and even surpassing many of the other students. Only Hermione learned the Shield Charm faster than him, and Harry couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest at watching so many of them demonstrate spells. He was even able to practice on the weekends with Hermione on a few spells from the book Riddle had given him, before showing the DA. Harry did feel better about his struggles learning when he saw no one could quite pick up the spell during a single lesson.

Harry had noticed the shift in the DA after the escapes. It seemed between knowing there were ten Death Eaters out there, and possibly Voldemort, made everyone work harder than before. Harry couldn’t blame them.

He wished his lessons with Snape would go half as well. His first meeting started off poorly, and have since only gotten worse. Harry felt like his scar was picking up more and more of Voldemort’s feelings by the day. There were even times when he would feel an emotion that was completely different than the situation he was in. It became even worse when he was in the classroom with Riddle. What made matters worse was, when he would rub his scar in class and Riddle would look away like he was guilty of something.

Harry just wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but it was getting harder and harder to talk to him. Between homework, Occlumency lessons, and the DA, Harry barely had time to think.

That didn’t stop him from heading to Riddle’s office after another bad session with Snape though. His scar was hurting worse than before and Harry could feel low levels of emotions that didn’t belong to him. It was worse than usual because he had broken out into a sweat this time, making him shiver in the cool hallways.

Harry knocked on Riddle’s office door and only had to wait a few seconds before the door creaked open.

“Mr. Potter,” came that silky voice Harry had come to know. “What… are you ill?”

Before Harry had time to answer, he was ushered inside the office and sat into the comfy chair across from Riddle’s desk. A fresh cup of tea was shoved into his hands and a thick green woven blanket was tucked around his shoulders. If Harry’s scar didn’t choose that exact moment to spike in pain, Harry could have thanked him. Instead he groaned against the pain, pinched his eyes shut, and rubbed his scar with his free hand.

When Harry could finally open his eyes once more, he saw the concerned face of Riddle crouching in front of him.

“Scar?” Riddle asked quietly. Harry could only nod slightly. Riddle’s nostrils flared for a moment, then he tipped the cup in Harry’s hands up towards Harry’s mouth. “Sip, don’t gulp. It’ll make your scar feel better. I promise.”

Harry did as he was told sipping at the tea. Unlike the normal tea that he was served, this one had a honey flavor to it. Harry had to fight the urge to gulp it down though, as just sipping it was already easing the pain in his scar. When the pain finally faded, Harry took in a deep breath of relief.

For the first time in a week, he couldn’t even feel the nudge of Voldemort’s emotions on the other side.

“Have you been experiencing this bad of influence since Holiday?” Riddle asked quietly.

“No,” Harry answered, wishing there was more tea. “Just since… I got back.”

“Occlumency lessons?” Riddle questioned, sighing. Without waiting for an answer, “I take it, you’re not doing so well?”

Harry felt a prickle of irritation.

“I’m trying,” he stressed, nearly hissing the words. “Snape doesn’t tell me how to clear my mind!”

“Oh,” Riddle waved his hand over the tea cup and it refilled once more. Harry wanted to refuse to drink it on principle since he was upset with Riddle, but the scent of honey made his mouth slightly water. He sipped it again.

Riddle sat down on the edge of his desk, not minding the papers or books that must be uncomfortable.

“Well, it’s not exactly like clearing your mind,” Riddle started slowly, crossing his arms. “It’s more of, focusing.”

“So, I don’t clear my mind?” Harry asked, wanting to shout. He’s been at it for a very painful two weeks with Snape. If he was being taught something wrong, that would explain why he couldn’t do it. Maybe he wasn’t that bad at it.

“Occlumency takes a lot of practice and focus. I’ve been told you can stop the Imperius Curse,” Riddle tilted his head to the side. When Harry nodded, he continued. “Think of Occlumency like the Imperius Curse. What did you do to stop that from making you bend?”

“I resisted,” Harry said, thinking on it. The last time the Imperius Curse was used on him was by Voldemort in the graveyard. Harry shivered despite the warm blanket on his shoulders.

“How did you resist?”

“I knew I was being asked to do something, and I… I decided not to do it,” Harry answered, not quite sure what Riddle was looking for. He glanced up and Riddle was smiling.

“You knew it was happening, and you decided not to allow it,” Riddle said, leaning back slightly. “That is how you resist Legilimency. You understand what the spell is meant to do, recognize the signs of it in your mind, and resist.” A pause. “Or direct it to certain thoughts and emotions you want the caster to see.”

“When the spell hits me, it’s like I’m falling though,” Harry gripped his cup. “I can’t think for a moment before Snape is already looking through my mind.”

“Well, you can feel Imperius when it’s cast, right?” Riddle asked, waiting for Harry to nod before continuing. “Then you must focus instead on recognizing the exact moment the spell is cast. Focus only on that moment. Look for it, feel for it, know it. When you can feel it coming on, then you can focus on repelling it, but until you know the moment you’re supposed to start, you are already drowning by the time you try to swim to the surface.”

The room was quiet for a few moments as Harry thought on Riddle’s words. He could remember the moment Snape started invading his mind. The room would swim in his vision and memories would start flashing in front of his eyes. He could understand why Riddle related to the spell feeling like you were drowning. Harry concentrated hard on that thought that the spell was like being thrown into a lake. The moment his body touched the water, he would have to start swimming, to resist being pulled under the waves.

Harry felt like for the first time since he started those lessons that he might be able to understand them. Then, a thought came to him.

“Why aren’t you teaching me?” Harry asked, looking up at Riddle’s still face. “Just after a quick talk with you, I understand it better than two weeks with Snape.”

“Dumbledore has spoken on the matter, and has decided it was best that Severus teach you,” Riddle answered evenly. He held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to complain. “I know, it’s tough learning under him, but he is extremely skilled. If you can resist him attacking your mind, you’ll have little trouble resisting Voldemort.”

Harry and Riddle connected eyes for a moment just then. Harry felt the rise of a strong emotion start in him. It boiled up suddenly in his chest, a dark anger that was not his own. For a moment, Harry felt exactly like he had in Dumbledore’s office where he wanted to strike out at Riddle. Just as quickly as it had come on, it cut off like flicking a switch. Harry shook his head, as Riddle had suddenly moved, and the echo of snapping fingers lingered in the office.

Harry looked back up at Riddle, but he wouldn’t connect eyes with him again. Riddle sat stiff on the edge of his desk with his hand out. His index and thumb were together, which explained the snapping sound Harry heard. He hadn’t even seen Riddle move. 

“I think,” Riddle started slowly and quietly. “That it’s time for you to get to bed for now, but if you have trouble with your lessons again, please see me.”

Harry didn’t bother trying to look at Riddle in the eyes. He knew something was wrong. His scar was now hurting like it did before he entered the office. Riddle insisted he take the cup with him and sip the tea though. Harry made his way back to Gryffindor tower and when he finished the last drop of tea, the cup vanished from his hands. He didn’t worry about it, and instead followed Riddle’s instructions to go straight to bed.

School continued and Harry found himself quickly wrapped up in everything. It was February before he even realized it, and another lesson with Snape. Harry had surprised himself and Snape with being able to resist Legilimency after only a few seconds on his last try. Harry was panting with effort and gripping his wand with white knuckles but he had done it. Snape only saw two memories before Harry had pushed him out with all his might. He had an itching feeling that Snape could have pushed past that defense but let himself be shoved.

“Not as bad as your usual efforts,” Snape said, lifting his chin and lowering his wand. “We’ll end sessions for tonight, but I expect you to start your next lesson where you are leaving off on this one.”

Harry couldn’t even muster a reply. He just grabbed his things and left without even looking back. Even though his body felt worn out beyond belief, he was elated with his success. It may not be perfect, but he was able to see where he could improve, and for the first time since leaving a lesson, his scar wasn’t throbbing in pain.

His trip to Hogsmeade with Cho almost slipped his mind because he was so happy with his progress. He was lucky that Hermione asked that he meet her and Ron when he was done with his date with Cho. Which, he almost wished he had forgotten since it started off brilliantly, but ended with Cho leaving in a crying storm.

Harry still wasn’t sure what he did or said to make it end so badly.

When Harry met up with Hermione, he found out exactly what she had planned when Rita Skeeter showed up. Before Harry could yell about it, Hermione explained the Rita was going to write Harry’s story word for word, and they were going to print it in the Quibbler. Luna seemed happy about it, as she stirred her drink with an onion stick.

So, they sat for an hour or two, cooped up while Harry relied the details of Voldemort coming back to Rita. Harry found that it was difficult to talk about that night, especially with Rita pressing him for every tiny detail. He answered as well as he could, and with everything he remembered. He hoped it was going to be enough for people to believe what he was saying, even if it was going to be printed in the Quibbler.

When the copy came out Harry was bombarded with mail from various people saying if they believed him or not. Umbridge made a show of coming down from the staff table and asking Harry why he has so many letters. Fred and George didn’t mind and kept opening the mail as though she wasn’t even there. Only when she asked why he had so many letters did Fred pipe up.

“Is that a crime now?” said Fred loudly. “Getting Mail?”

Harry had explained he did an interview and watched as Umbridge’s pale face became ugly with patchy violet spots. The copy of the Quibbler Harry had thrown at her, was clenched in her hands so hard, Harry was sure the paper was now wrinkled. She banned him from any more Hogsmeade trips but as she went to continue, she paused oddly.

“Well…” she said quietly, her eyes widen for a moment as though a thought hit her. Her hand came up and gently rubbed at her neck for a second. Everyone had paused, watching her odd behavior, before she seemed to snap out of it. “Fifty points from Gryffindor, and you should be lucky it’s not a detention as well.”

Harry watched in bemusement as Umbridge turned on her heel and stalked back up to the staff table. He turned his eyes to Riddle who was sat perfectly still in his chair and his eyes on Harry.

Harry didn’t know why, but he shivered just then, and turned back to the pile of mail that seemed to have no ending as more owls came pouring in from the windows.

That same day, the Quibbler was banned but that didn’t seem to stop a single person from having read it. Teachers were giving him points, Flitwick has given him a box of sugar mice, Trelawney had cried exclaiming Harry was going to live a long life, and somehow, best of all, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sat fuming every time Harry passed them.

Harry enjoyed having his story out much to his own surprise. The only problem he had was in his next Transfiguration class. Riddle was even more withdrawn than before. Harry tried to talk to him, but students were milling about so he had to leave. The happy buzz Harry had been running on all day had drained from him.

He had the oddest feeling that Riddle was feeling guilty. He hoped it wasn’t from the interview. Harry thought he made it clear that he knew Riddle and Voldemort were two separate people, and he didn’t care if Riddle could have been Voldemort. He wasn’t, and that was what mattered to him. Harry found this upset him a great deal, when even Cho came up to him saying how brave she thought he was for giving the interview, the best Harry could do was nod before moving on.

He wondered if he could sneak out to see Riddle and find out what was wrong. He only hoped it wasn’t something serious.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story please leave a Comment or Kudos. Thank you!


	14. I Must Not Harm

Harry unfortunately was very busy the rest of the day when everyone read _The Quibbler_. To make matters worse, a low-level headache started sometime after lunch. When he got back to the Gryffindor common room that night he was treated like a hero. The twins had enlarged the front cover of the Quibbler and hung it on the wall. It stopped being as funny when the talking spell on it started to wear off, and was causing his headache to get worse. Harry called it an early night much to the disappointment of the people who gathered to hear him talk about the interview.

For the second time, when Harry fell asleep for the night, he was inside Voldemort’s head. Harry was woken up by Ron who shook him and asked him if Harry saw another attack. Luckily, it wasn’t an attack Harry had witnessed but Voldemort being disappointed in a follower who couldn’t get Voldemort whatever he needed.

Ron and him discussed it for a few moments, they both decided it would be best to tell Hermione in the morning.  When Ron asked to him to tell Dumbledore, Harry firmly told him no. They both went back to bed. When they told Hermione, she seemed concerned and then angry that Harry wasn’t closing his mind, or working hard enough in Occlumency lessons. Harry didn’t talk to her for the rest of the day because of it.

The day didn’t improve either since the only conversations happening in the corridors were either about the escaped Death Eaters, or about Gryffindor’s loss to Hufflepuff either in the week. Harry felt bad for Ron who had to listen to the Slytherins sing ‘Weasley is our King’ in the hallways. It was even banned by dinner by Flitch out of sheer irritation.

Harry dwelled on the dream, but didn’t bring it up with Ron or Hermione. He didn’t need another talking to by them. Instead, when night fell, Harry left to common room to Riddle’s office. Since Riddle had shared visions as well, Harry was sure he could shed some light on this.

When Harry got to his office, he noticed chatter from inside. He could tell it was Riddle in there but he was sure he was mistaken on the other voice. Harry leaned in close to the door and he could smell the fresh honey bread scent as it drifted from the cracks in the door. He could imagine the stack of bread on the messy desk easily, having sat in the office enough times.

“Are you quite sure,” Riddle’s voice came out, sounding quite defeated.

“Unfortunately,” answered Hermione. She sounded like she was apologizing to Riddle like one would for running over their neighbor’s cat. “I don’t see how you could go back. The circumstances were so unique and recreating them isn’t possible.” A pause, where Harry could hear pin drop in that silence. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Riddle said, though he didn’t seem any less defeated. “You have tried so hard all year to keep up with your studies and help me with this. You have done everything you can.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel sorry for it.”

“Thank you,” Riddle responded.

Harry almost had to jump out of the way as the door opened. Riddle and Hermione looked surprised to see Harry in the corridor, Hermione gasping Harry’s name. Riddle still wouldn’t look Harry in the eyes though, choosing to stare just over his shoulder instead.

“Have a good evening Miss. Granger,” Riddle muttered, and turned. “Come in, Mr. Potter.”

Hermione stared at Harry as she passed him, a little pink in the cheeks. She patted Harry on the shoulder and whispered, “Maybe you can make him feel better” before leaving them alone. Harry stared at her as she went, wondering exactly lead up to the conversation he just overheard. He shut the door behind him as he walked in.

Riddle’s office was a bit more chaotic than before. The books Harry had staked and put away through his detentions were now spread across the shag carpet once more, and the top of the wooden desk could no longer be see under all the papers on top of it. There were ink spills on some, notes scribbled across many of them, and it took a moment for Harry to realize these were the notes that Riddle had in his bedroom, now spread out. Before he could get a good look at them, Riddle waved his hand over them, and they floated up in the air. Harry watched as they straightened themselves into a pile and set themselves as a stack on the desk. Another wave and the books were now doing the same.

“If you could do that, why did you make me straighten them in my first detention?” Harry asked, watching as two books now fought over the same space. The thicker book won out, stacking itself first and the small book flopped on top.

“Oh,” Riddle practically collapsed into his chair, and rested his forehead in his hand. “That was because I wanted to see your thought process. You can learn a lot about a person on how they keep their books.”

Harry sat down in his own chair, fidgeting. He remembered clearly losing the book Riddle gave him to Umbridge before it was given back to him as a present on Christmas, and the other was stuffed in his trunk since he didn’t have time to read it.

“Now, what can I help you with?” Riddle asked, leaning forward and taking a roll of honey bread from the platter on his desk.

“I was wondering, if you had a vision last night?” Harry asked, his hands tightening on the chair. Riddle had paused in chewing for a moment, looking surprised, before finishing his bite.

“A vision?”  he asked slowly, tapping his temple. “I haven’t, but what did you see?”

Harry relayed the vision to Riddle, explaining in detail exactly what he saw and heard. Riddle’s brows came together, and by the end, his honey bread was left forgotten on his desk. Riddle folded his hands and put them under his chin in thought, staring down. They sat for a moment longer. Harry was grateful that Riddle’s office didn’t have an annoying ticking clock, as the tense was high enough without a reminder.

“This is troubling,” Riddle said after a time and then pursed his lips. He took a deep breath. “Voldemort knows you can see snippets of his life. I worry more that he’s letting you see parts of it to make you think a certain way, more than you actually seeing something.”

“What do you mean?” Harry sat up straight in his chair, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“I mean just that,” Riddle said, then sighed, and fell back into the chair. “I don’t want you to have any more visions, but if they do occur, be mindful all may not be what it seems. I can control my thoughts and manipulate them if someone tries to use Legilimency on me. I do not doubt for a second Voldemort could do the same.”

“You think Voldemort is letting me see his failed plans, so… what?” Harry asked, frowning, and shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t understand what he would have to gain from that.”

“Not with this vision, maybe,” Riddle started slowly, rubbing his chin in thought. He scooped up his forgotten roll. “It is a thought to keep close. If you have any more visions, come to me first. Do not do anything rash.”

“I won’t,” Harry snapped, feeling irritated that even Riddle was giving him a lecture.

“I don’t think you will,” Riddle all but whispered, taking a small bite. “But, I probably would in your shoes, so I am giving you the advice I would give myself. I don’t always make the best of choices.”

The distant hooting of the owls could be heard as both sat in silence. Harry felt his anger quickly diminish though as he watched Riddle twitch in his seat. The earlier worry about Riddle rose suddenly in its place. They still hadn’t connected eyes, and the scar hadn’t hurt once since stepping into the office. Harry found himself shifting in his seat.

“I hope you know,” Harry started, rubbing the back of his neck now. For the first time since he entered, he was no longer trying to connect eyes with Riddle. “I don’t think of you as Voldemort… at all. I know you’re your own person, and I don’t blame you… for any of what _he_ does. Or my scar. Just, so you know.”

The silence echoing in the room after Harry’s confession was almost deafening. Harry felt his ears grow warm and he refused to look up. Now, Harry sort of wished there was a ticking clock or anything to break the silence that was drowning the office.

“Thank you,” Riddle responded, low, and stuttering. When Harry looked up, he could see the red of Riddle’s ears as he shifted. Riddle was twiddling his thumbs and doing his best impression of a school boy. Harry had the distinct feeling that Riddle took his confession as a compliment, and warmth spread in his chest at the thought.

“You’re welcome, Professor,” Harry said with a smile.

With the conversation now stilted, they said their good byes for the night, awkwardly. Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room, with his ears still burning from the meeting. It lasted until he was in front of the room of requirement and started his next lesson for everyone.

Harry reflected it may have been the best part of the week though, as he struggled through potions, getting two more D’s, worrying about Umbridge sacking Hagrid, and now feeling the worry that Voldemort might be trying to manipulate him through his visions. He didn’t bring up the last bit with Ron and Hermione because they would just tell him to practice Occlumency more. Harry was trying, using the advice Riddle gave him, he was getting better. His improvement as time went on became good enough that even Snape was snipping at him less.

That still didn’t stop Snape from accessing his memories though during this evenings lessons. The stream of images was getting fainter as time went on. Harry panted as he could stand through the onslaught of memories and this time, he could see Snape through them as soon as they appeared. He began the hard task of trying to push Snape out with just his mind. His eyes screwed up in concentration as he did so, his vision blurring with the strain.

“Push harder,” snipped Snape.

Harry’s nostrils flared as he pushed as hard as he could. The visions stopped immediately and Snape faltered for a moment, before correcting himself. Harry’s knees hit the stone as they gave out under that last effort.

“Well,” Snape started, not even sounding out of breath. “That’s a start in the right direction.”

“A start?” Harry huffed, then clenched his jaw shut.

“Yes, a start,” Snape said as he raised his wand once more. “I can still see your memories before you push me out. You need to stop me before I get that far or else this will be for nothing.”

“I’m trying!” Harry all but shouted, slowly getting back to his feet. He wiped his brow and his scar throbbed. “I can push you out now. That’s something.”

“Respect, Mr. Potter,” sneered Snape, crossing his arms and his eyes bored into Harry. “I am still your teacher and there will be no shouting in these lessons, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Harry hissed, then quickly, “ _Sir_.”

Snape eyed him for a moment longer, letting Harry squirm under his gaze, before unfolding his arms.

“Let’s see if this improvement holds,” Snape started, pulling up his wand. Harry tensed up. “One, two, three.”

Harry didn’t even think. As soon as he could feel the spell his him, he raised his own wand.

“ _Protego_!”

Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away from Harry – and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his. He could see snippets of Snape’s life… a crying boy as his parents shouted… trying to fly a bucking broom… others flashed in front of his eyes before-

“ENOUGH!”

Harry hit the shelves behind him, shattering some jars. Snape, though panting now, repaired the mess. Harry was frozen on the spot as he watched, knowing he was going to pay for that glimpse into Snape’s memories. Harry almost had a harder time imagining the small boy from the memories growing up to be the menacing man in front of him, but he knew better than to say anything.

“Let’s try again, shall we?” said Snape.

Harry felt a thrill of dread. He knew at that moment; this next go was going to be the worst he had ever felt. Harry couldn’t even concentrate on what Riddle had taught him. How could he when he was staring at the end of Snape’s wand?

Unlike the times before in this lesson, the visions in front of Harry were clear. He couldn’t see Snape at all, and was feeling helpless as he watched them go. A moment when Dudley tried to make him stand in a toilet, then hundreds of Dementors closing in on him, another flash, and suddenly he was back at Hogwarts where he had his wand tipped up under Riddle’ chin… _oh no_ … Harry felt helpless as he watched Riddle’s mouth move _no please no_ and then the worst part when Harry’s voice drifted in…

_“You killed my parents. You are Voldemort!”_

_“In another universe, yes.”_

At once the visions stopped. Harry was almost on the ground this time, though he had no memory of how he ended up there, with his scar throbbing madly on his forehead so badly his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. His wand was dropped as his hands were in front of him, barely holding his body weight. Sweat dripped off his forehead, dotting the stoned floor that was covered in strange liquid from the broken jars.

“Potter,” Snape hissed quietly. Harry shivered in fear, refusing to look up. “Get. _Up_.”

Harry wished the floor would open and swallow him right at this moment. He couldn’t believe that was the memory that was pulled. He pounded his fist on the floor, angry at himself as well as terrified for Riddle now. If only he hadn’t thought about Riddle just as Snape was about to cast, this wouldn’t have happened!

“I said, GET UP!” Snape said, grabbing Harry roughly by the shoulder and hauling him up to his feet. Harry stared back at a furious looking Snape, who was also deathly pale. Harry could feel the hand that was still on his shoulder was probably going to bruise fiercely. “What is the meaning of that memory?”

“My cousin trying to get me to stand in a toilet?” Harry suggested, hoping against hope he could fake his way through this. When he saw Snape’s eye twitch, he quickly explained. “He’s from another Universe. He’s not Voldemort from here.”

“How do you know this?” Snape somehow asked without moving his lips. The grip somehow became tighter on his shoulder.

“I… I had a dream, where I was him. But, I knew it wasn’t Voldemort. When I woke up, I went to his office and he explained,” Harry said, staying as still as possible with a shaking hand on his shoulder. Snape stood stock still, as though in shock. The more Harry watched Snape, the more a nagging thought occurred. Then suddenly, “You didn’t know, did you?”

Harry was saved from Snape baring down any more of his wrath when a woman’s scream came from somewhere outside of the room. They both turned to look at the door, then back at each other. Snape swept out of the room, pale, and shaking with his wand at the ready. Harry grabbed his from the floor and quickly followed.

Students gathered around as Trelawney sobbed in front of her suitcase with a satisfied Umbridge standing there, smiling like everything this was a warm summer’s day. Riddle stood on the side, hands behind his back, and not blinking as he watched what was happening. Snape stood near Harry, clutching his wand and stuck with the spectators, but he was watching Riddle instead of what was happening.

Umbridge declared that Trelawney was sacked, and had to see her way out of the castle. Everyone looked either shocked, or like they would be ill at the news. Lavender and Parvati were hugging each other as they cried silently watching the scene unfold. It wasn’t until Dumbledore walked out that Harry felt the situation improve.

The oak front doors had swung open revealing Dumbledore. Students parted to allow him through to the center of the circle where Trelawney sobbed uncontrollably. Dumbledore explained that he had the authority to allow Trelawney to stay in Hogwarts if she would like. Umbridge didn’t take too kindly to hearing that, becoming terse.

“And what,” Umbridge said in a whisper that nevertheless carried all around the entrance hall, “are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodging?”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” said Dumbledore pleasantly. He turned slightly towards the front doors. “Professor McGonagall, if you could.”

In front of the whole school Professor McGonagall strolled in with her pointed hat perfectly in place, her face stern as always, and she stopped beside Dumbledore, who smiled at her.  

“You see, I have a returned teacher, and an empty spot,” Dumbledore explained, now nodding over to Riddle, who stepped forward. “If you would be so kind Professor Thomason, to take over Divination for the rest of the year?”

“Yes, of course,” Riddle answered giving a slight bow to Dumbledore in the process.

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Dumbledore said with a smile, looking over at Umbridge, who was standing prone on the spot. “Now, let’s all retire to our rooms.”

Umbridge was thunderstruck as the teachers sent the students off to their dorms now that the matter of who was going to teach was settled. When Riddle passed Umbridge, he gave her a tiny nod, and she seemed to shrink in on herself. Riddle walked with Dumbledore towards the towers, most likely to check on Trelawney, while McGonagall marched the Gryffindors up the stairs. Snape on the other hand, stayed still until Riddle was out of sight, before barking at the Slytherins to head back to their dorms. He swept out of the hallway with his robes flapping, making him seem like a giant bat, as he disappeared.

Harry had the feeling that Snape wasn’t going to let go of the knowledge he just discovered about Thomason. He felt like a stone was dropped in his stomach, and for the first time, thought maybe he should talk to Dumbledore; before Snape did anything drastic. Then, thought better of it.

At breakfast Lavender and Parvati for all their crying yesterday didn’t seem too broken up about having Riddle as their new Divination teacher. Lavender was sighing dreamily while talking about Riddle, and Parvati questioning if Hermione now felt bad about dropping out of Divination.

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. 

“Not really,” said Hermione indifferently, who was reading _The_ _Daily Prophet_. “Unlike someone, I’ve learned my lesson about liking older men.”

She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns.

“He’s not _that_ much older than us!” said Lavender, sounding shocked.

“A _gorgeous_ older man…” sighed Parvati.

“Either way, he’s still decades older than any of us,” said Hermione coolly. “Anyway, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?”

“We are!” Lavender assured her. “We went up to her office to see her, we took her some daffodils – not the honking ones that Sprout’s got, nice ones…”

“How is she?” asked Harry.

“Not very good, poor thing,” said Lavender sympathetically.

It wasn’t long until they had their first class with Riddle being the teacher for Divination. Harry wagered it was going to be dramatically different than before. He couldn’t imagine Riddle wearing all those shawls, carrying around incense, and proclaiming the horrible deaths of all the students. After breakfast Harry and Ron followed Lavender and Parvati to Divination, which was in a different classroom than before.

“Aren’t we going up to North Tower?” asked Ron, looking puzzled, as Parvati bypassed the marble staircase.

“Professor Thomason insisted that Trelawney get to keep her rooms as they are, in case they can hire her back in the future most likely, and he took up another classroom,” Parvati answered, and gave him a scornful look. “Didn’t you pay even the slightest attention to the notice boards?”

Classroom eleven was situated on the ground floor corridor leading off the entrance hall on the opposite side to the Great Hall. This was one of the lesser used classrooms, and for that reason it had a slightly neglected feeling. Like an old cupboard or storage room. When Harry walked in behind the group, he found himself in the middle of an open field but with desk chairs lined up on one half, and empty grass on the other.

The classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were seen in the distance as though the classroom were larger than the school itself. There was no ceiling, instead a night sky above their heads, and stars twinkled at them. Somehow, light stayed near the ground as though there were torches lite around the room, but Harry couldn’t see them. Students were hovering around the chairs but one or two, already laid out on the grass.

“Have a seat where you feel comfortable,” said Riddle, appearing from the edge of the light. He came forward and this time, Harry could see he was wearing midnight blue robes with silver embroidery stars patterned around. The usually high collar Riddle had taken to wearing was missing, instead the robes rounded around his neck revealing only the slight indication of his collar bone. His hands were resting next to him as he walked to where the front of the class would normally be.

“Professor Dumbledore arranged this room for us, so we could observe other areas of Divination that include reading the stars,” Riddle explained, looking up. “A lot could be told by stars. You can guide yourself back home using them, tell time, or distance. We are going to be using them to learn of the future.”

What occurred after was surprisingly a very straight forward lesson. They watched the stars as Riddle explained what each star meant, and when they came close what it alluded to. He was very insistent that even though we could see much in the stars, as anyone looking on an experiment, we could always be wrong in what we saw. Or take them out of context. He did his normal routine of walking around the classroom, but Harry noticed he still did not come over to his group during the class. Harry felt himself prickle a bit at that, wondering why Riddle was being so distant again.

Perhaps he didn’t believe Harry, or it could be something else. Something Harry hadn’t figured out yet.

“Well, he didn’t declare we would all die horribly, so this was the best Divination lesson I’ve been to,” said Ron as they left.

They passed through the rest of their classes, and Harry wondered when he could finally get some time to talk to Dumbledore about Riddle. During potions, it seemed Snape was making it a point to not look at or notice Harry in any way. He didn’t even mock him when his potion turned a sickly green color and let out a burb of smoke, when it was supposed to be a deep purple. Harry rubbed his shoulder which was still bruised from Snape grabbing him.

The brightest spot was seeing Professor McGonagall in the Transfiguration class again. Harry and Ron couldn’t keep the stupid grins off their faces when she swept into the classroom to greet the class. She told them to keep their faces under control, but Harry could swear he saw a tugging smile on her face as she turned to write on the black board.

“Now class, I’ve gone over your lessons for this years and it seems many of you are on your way to high marks on your O.W.L.s. There are only a few gaps we need to make up in your lessons,” McGonagall continued to give them a lecture about O.W.L.s that they had heard almost every day since they got into school, but Harry was still smiling through class.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind for a moment when class let out. Harry had the uncommon urge to throw his arms around the older woman, but instead gripped at his bag.

“Yes?” McGonagall asked.

“We just wanted to say, we’re happy you’re back,” Hermione said, stepping forward. “We’ve been worried.”

“I’ll have you know I can take care of myself Miss. Granger,” McGonagall said, coming up to them, but she didn’t seem angry in the least. She leaned towards them slightly. “That being said, I’m glad to be back.”

The rest of the day became filled with homework and studies. The only teacher they didn’t get homework from was Umbridge, who just insisted they read their book every time they entered. Hermione just sat in class, staring at her closed book ever day since she read it all before class even started on day one. Ron sometimes took a nap behind his open book, and Harry mentally planned DA lessons.

This DA they were working on their Patronus charms. Everyone had been very keen to practice, though as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different to producing it when confronted by something like a dementor. 

Harry observed the students conjuring their own Patronus, and many more just having wisps of silver smoke come from the end of their wand. Then, Dobby came crashing into the room, to tell them Umbridge and her squad of Slytherins were coming to catch them.

“RUN!” yelled Harry as all the students scrambled to get as far away from the room as possible. Harry took off in a random direction only to get caught by Malfoy in a tripping jinx.

Umbridge came up to them, breathy but wearing a delighted smile as she saw Harry laying on the stone floor. She dismissed Malfoy and grabbed Harry by his bruised shoulder, hauled him up, and to the Headmaster’s office. Harry struggled lightly, looking around for Riddle, hoping against all hope that he could be rescued. When they passed the stone gargoyle and were heading up the stairs, that’s when Harry truly felt the first real tendrils of fear slip down his back.

Harry started having panicked thoughts about how if he was expelled, where would he go? Would the Dursely’s let him come back after this? How would Mrs. Weasley react when she found out he wasn’t going to be completing his O.W.L.s? Would he ever get a job in the Wizarding world if he didn’t graduate? Seamus had finally gone to a meeting and this happened… and Neville was getting so good.

Maybe he could live with Hagrid… if Hagrid still lived here after Umbridge was done this year.

What will Riddle do?

Harry was marched right into Dumbledore’s office where there were quite a bit of people including the Minister Fudge. What occurred next was as surprising to Harry was it was to the Minister. He found out that Cho’s friend Marietta had told Umbridge about their meetings until Hermione’s jinx got to her and covered her face in horrible welts that spelled out SNEAK. Umbridge was also able to produce the list with all the student’s names on them, including Harry’s, much to her delight.

What was surprising was Dumbledore taking credit for it as the top read ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ at the top, then after the Minister was fully convinced, disappearing with Fawkes. Harry did find out that Kingsley was part of the order and a warning from Dumbledore to learn to close his mind.

Harry left the office, being ushered out by McGonagall, and in a complete state of shock. The next morning, Harry woke up to discover that it wasn’t a horrible dream when by order of the Minister of Magic, Dolores Jane Umbridge was made Head of Hogwarts.

Somehow, it seemed everyone the next morning knew what Dumbledore had done. The stories became wilder through the day as they usually did, but the facts remained. Dumbledore was gone in a burst of flame after overcoming two trained Aurors, the Minister of Magic, his junior assistant, and the High Inquisitor.

“Dumbledore will be back before long,” said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology. Harry wished he had that kind of confidence in Dumbledore’s return.

Ernie did share that Umbridge was unable to get access to the Headmaster’s office though. Apparently, the Gargoyle has refused her entry, and will not open the door way anymore. Harry wished he would have seen her tantrum in the middle of the hall way trying to get in.

They also learned that Malfoy and his gang could deduct points now, that Fred and George had shoved Montague into the vanishing cabinet, and they were warned to make sure they were in the Great Hall so the teachers wouldn’t be able to blame them for what was to come.

Flitch actually came to collect Harry for Umbridge, who was using her office instead of the Headmaster’s. Harry felt a sense of pride that Hogwarts fought back against Umbridge as well as the students. What occurred next was as strange as the night before. Umbridge tried to get him to drink tea that Harry knew something was wrong with. He remembered Moody’s insistence to never drink anything an enemy gave you, and only pretended to drink.

Harry was glad for his forward thinking when Umbridge tried to ask him where Sirius and Dumbledore were. Harry was able to lie about it, but the looks she gave him, he was sure she slipped something into his drink. They were interrupted by a deafening BOOM!

The office even shook and Umbridge slipped sideways, clutching at her desk for support. She looked shocked, as she readied her wand and dashing out the door as fast as she could. Harry dumped his tea into a flower vase so she wouldn’t see that he didn’t drink any of it. Harry got up from his seat to dash after her, and finding that more objects around her office had fallen from the shelves. A few of the kitten pictures were shattered on the ground or barely hanging on, books, and her tea set were scattered around, and a large, rolled up parchment had been uncovered from the back along with several empty vials.

Harry looked at the open door, listening to the distant screaming, and then back at the parchment. He snatched it and tucked it under his shirt awkwardly as he ran to catch up to Umbridge.

He arrived just in time to see Flitch and Umbridge ducking under a large firework that came wheezing by. A large crate was in the middle of the floor filled to capacity with magical fireworks. Harry watched as Dragons, snakes, rockets, and other things were making their ways through the hallways. The animals were comprised of multiple colored fireworks but breathed smoke down the halls, and travelled around. Umbridge and Flitch were screaming under the assault, and Harry was grinning.

When Umbridge attempted to stupefy one of them, instead of freezing mid-air, it exploded with such a force that part of the wall collapsed. Flitch was swatting at them with a broom, which only made the broom catch fire.

Harry had seen enough, he left laughing, and easily ducking the fireworks that zoomed overhead. He slipped into a hidden door behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor, and found the twins behind it listening to Umbridge and Flitch.

“Impressive,” Harry said quietly, grinning. “Very impressive… you’ll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem.”

“Cheers,” whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. “Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next… they multiple by ten every time you try.”

Harry and the twins made their way back to the Gryffindor common room with ease. Harry grabbed the rolled-up parchment he had stolen from Umbridge’s office and threw it in his trunk. He was going to be late for class and decided to see what it was after. The rest of the day was filled with Umbridge being summoned by teachers to take care of the fireworks. Even McGonagall let in the joke, and did nothing to stop the fireworks, even though Harry knew she could.

Even Hermione seemed happy about the fireworks, even though she couldn’t do her homework with all the noise.

Harry could still hear the distant bangs of escaped firecrackers when he and Ron went up to bed. When Harry was finished getting dressed for bed he went to his trunk and pulled out the parchment. Seamus and Dean were already rolled over for sleep, Neville was snoring, and Ron was just tucking himself in. Harry brought the parchment over to his side table where a candle was lit.

“What do you have there?” Ron asked, popping his head up.

“Just something I found,” Harry answered quietly, looking around the room. He nodded his head, and moved aside. Ron took the cue and got up. When both of them had settled and the curtains were drawn to hid the parchment from the others if they looked up, Harry started to unroll it.

Harry saw red ink across the parchment. It was the same dark red that his parchment had when he served detentions with Umbridge. Harry felt like he might be a bit sick as he started unrolling more and more of it.

“What is that?” Ron asked, pale faced.

“It’s a detention parchment from Umbridge’s office,” answered Harry in a shaky voice.

The parchment went on… and on… Harry could tell it was probably taller than him if he stood up, or nearly as tall. Harry felt his dinner threatening to come back up as he looked over the parchment, before rolling it back up. He decided he was going to burn it in the fireplace the next morning before class.

All that was written on it was a single phrase, over, and over again…

_I must not harm_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed reading this story please leave a comment and/or kudos. Thank you.


	15. Exams and Visions

 

Harry fell into an uneasy sleep after him and Ron returned the parchment to Harry’s trunk. The day drifting off like the fireworks that still occasionally passed the window. Before Harry fell completely asleep, he wondered how Umbridge felt her first day as Headmaster had gone, and if Fudge would be angry to find out her first day was spent trying to quell fireworks from the school. That, at least, brought a smile to his lips before he finally drifted off…

He had fallen right into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. Harry felt himself move down the hallways at a great speed, barely keeping up with the portraits he passed along the way. In the distance, he thought to himself, what harm could happen from looking? After all, he didn’t have to act on what he saw. He knew better.

The plain black door was in front of him again, like it had been most of the year, but this time it swung open. Harry travelled inside, going on and on… there was a room filled with towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun-glass spheres. Harry felt an urge to grab one in particular. His heart beat faster as he reached up a hand towards one… one he knew was his.

His scar was hurting.

_BANG_! Harry awoke instantly, confused and angry. The fireworks had woken him and several others as they lit up the room in sparkling colors. Everyone but Harry ran to the windows to watch as some of the fireworks merged together to create a giant one, before exploding into a rain of glittering, pink and silver winged piglets that soared over the tower.

Harry spent the day worrying about closing or not closing his mind to Voldemort. He now at least had an idea about what Voldemort wanted, which was something in the Department of Mysteries. One of those glass spheres held something, or was something, that he wanted badly. Maybe if Harry let him be open enough to finish the vision, he could find out what exactly it was. Then, he could bring the information to Riddle. They could work out what it meant.

But, then Harry remembered how, like Dumbledore, Riddle was now evading his eyes. Harry frowned at the thought, and then remembered, Riddle still talked to him. Riddle never closed his office to Harry, and always listened.

He was so deep in thought he didn’t realize Cho had come up to him. She tried to defend her friend selling them out to Umbridge, and Harry wasn’t having it. Dumbledore was gone because of it, and as far as Harry was concerned, it was Marietta’s fault.

The interaction left Harry angry, and he was still fuming when he went to Occlumency lessons with Snape. The only thing that saved him from having to deal with Snape finding out exactly how much Harry was unable to clear his mind, when Malfoy dropped in. Snape and Malfoy left to go deal with Montague, who had somehow turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor. Harry made sure to remember that little bit for the twins. He was then left alone in the office, and with the pensive that Snape emptied his memories into.

Harry made the mistake of thinking Snape was hiding information about the Department of Mysteries in that pensive, and stuck his head in it. What in fact was hidden there was childhood memories, of Harry’s Dad, Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew bullying Snape. Harry watched as his mother defended Snape from their bullying, only to be called a Mudblood by Snape for her efforts. Harry could hardly blame him though, as he could understand the embarrassment well. Before he could see if his father had made it worse, a livid Snape was standing next to him, dragging him out of the memories.

If Harry thought Snape was angry when he found out Thomason was Tom Riddle, it was nothing compared to the sheer anger that rolled from him then. Harry fled from the room as quickly as he possible could and was determined to never look Snape in the eyes again. What made it all the worse, wasn’t that Snape had shouted at him, or thrown jars – no what was worse was the understanding Harry felt at being mocked in a circle of people. For the first time, Harry started to believe that his father was every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him.

It only took two days after that for Hermione to find out that Snape had stopped giving him Occlumency lessons, and she insisted that he go ask for them to restart. Harry couldn’t tell her or Ron what he saw in the pensive, or why he couldn’t go back.

“Maybe I can practice with Riddle?” Harry offered, picking at his fingernail.

“If Dumbledore wanted him to teach you, he would have said so,” Hermione said reasonably.

“I learned more from him than Snape,” Harry argued. “I’ll ask him, and if he won’t, I’ll… think about asking Snape.”

That seemed to calm Hermione down enough that she let it go for the rest of the day. Harry waited until after dinner before traveling to Riddle’s office. He had a few things he wanted to talk about, not just Occlumency, but the dream of the corridor, and find out what was bothering Riddle so much. Like before, Harry knocked on the Office door and was lead in.

Harry did start to notice the looser robes Riddle had started wearing since he took the Divination teacher spot. The rounded collars and robes that hung off his frame instead of hugging it, were a new development. He still had a penchant for wearing dark blue colors and variations, so that wasn’t new at least. Harry didn’t know if he could take finding out more secrets about people around him.

He hid a shudder when he thought about the parchment he found.

“Tea?” Riddle asked, already waving his hand to summon a kettle.

Harry took his own cup, and slowly moved to take a sip. He was reminded of being in Umbridge’s office and her offer of tea. He held his own cup for a moment to his lips without taking a drink. Instead, he lowered his cup into his lap and let it warm his hands. Riddle didn’t seem to mind in the least, taking a large sip of his own, and a biscuit.

“I take it you’re not here to discuss today’s lesson,” Riddle started, with that little half smirk he often gave. His eyes fluttered across Harry’s face for a moment, before they went back down to his cup.

“I had another dream about the corridor,” Harry said, adjusting in his seat.

“Ah,” Riddle put down his own cup on the desk, and folded his hands neatly. “Tell me everything.”

And Harry did tell him all of it. The corridor, how every time he has been getting closer to finding out what it is, and how he had the strangest urge that either he, or something else really wanted something in that room.

“Spun glass spheres you say?” Riddle asked, rubbing his chin in deep thought. “Why would _he_ want…”

“Do you know what they are?” Harry asked.

“I think,” Riddle started, before pressing his lips together and frowning. He sighed and shook his head. “I know what I can rule out at the very least, and it’s a weapon. Those spheres, based on what you have told me, hold information not powers.”

“Information? What sort of information?”

“Vague information on the future, if you can believe it,” Riddle started, running a hand through his hair. It was odd to watch him do it, as only Harry has done that motion before… and his father. Harry’s stomach dropped at the thought. Riddle didn’t seem to notice. “Those spheres hold any fortunes or prophecies told. Some are false, some are real, some have already happened, others will never happen. Like any peak into the future, it is ever changing as the stars, and the people who gaze upon them.”

“So,” Harry started, wondering if he had this right. “What Voldemort wants, may not even be good information?”

“Well, depends,” Riddle started, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands below his chin. “If he judged another action on that knowledge, and wanted to hear it for himself, to correct something, that would be worthwhile. It certainly would for me.”

“It could help him, then?”

“Potentially,” Riddle nodded, still deep in thought. “Or cause more trouble. But this is for certain, whatever it is, he shouldn’t get his hands on it. You might be seeing this vision because he is so focused on this goal.”

“Why aren’t you seeing it?” Harry asked.

“It’s complicated,” Riddle sighed, and took another biscuit. He tipped the plate towards Harry for him to have one, and he took one automatically. “He and I have the same soul. I am aware of him, and am very lucky he isn’t aware of me, yet. But, our connection to you is just that. It’s to you, not each other.”

“Then why could you see from the snake like I could?”

“Because I was seeing it through you,” Riddle explained, looking down at his own hands. Harry watched him shift uncomfortably. “I could feel your connection, and through that was able to watch what was happening. I cannot, however, see what Voldemort does and luckily, he cannot see what I see.” 

Harry swallowed his biscuit dryly, and without a thought, took a sip of his tea. They stayed in silence for a minute, letting the words flow over them. Harry could almost feel how uncomfortable Riddle was with this line of questioning, but he didn’t seem like he was going to stop Harry from asking. Instead, he stayed in his chair and awaited whatever Harry decided. The problem was, Harry didn’t know where to go from here. Everything seemed so complicated at the moment.

Instead of asking a question, Harry slowly finished his tea and biscuit, placing the empty cup on the desk when he was finished. Riddle fidgeted.

“Riddle?” asked Harry, and Riddle’s head snapped up. “Can Voldemort see you from my eyes? Would he know, who you are?”

Riddle gave a smile, that wasn’t pleasant. He sighed and once again folded his hands.

“I was wondering when you would get there,” Riddle started, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I worked hard on building a shield from his eyes. To him, I appear like any other Wizard in his mid-sixties. Dark hair, brown eyes, and average appearance. To him, I look very ordinary, and if he were to look at me in person, he would no doubt see past this charm. I am counting on him being deceived by it since he would be using your eyes, and not his own.”

“You can do that?” asked Harry in awe.

“Yes,” Riddle said simply. Then he leaned forward as though to tell a secret. “It’s only a matter of tricking myself, essentially, and if I am good at anything, it’s convincing myself of something that is not true.”

Just then Harry looked up and they connected eyes once more. A pain shot through the scar of his forehead, and he felt again that terrible, snake-like longing to strike at Riddle, to bite him, to hurt him – then Riddle waved a hand in front of his face, and suddenly it stopped. Like flicking a switch.

“Did you…?” Harry asked, putting a hand to his scar, and rubbing it smartly. It still throbbed but the pain was manageable now.

“Feel that?” Riddle asked with a grim look. “Yes.” They both leaned back and away from each other. “The connection is getting stronger. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry muttered as he continued to rub at his scar.

“I can hold it back, for a few moments, but it might be best if we don’t connect eyes again,” Riddle whispered, looking as pained as Harry felt. “I don’t want to be the cause of any more harm.”

Harry’s head snapped up at the phrase, just as Riddle turned his head to look down. Harry watched as Riddle’s ears turned red under the scrutiny, and Harry felt bile going up his throat. He wondered, if it was Riddle’s blood on that parchment… did Umbridge make him do lines? Is that why he fidgets so much and why she acts so odd around Riddle now?

Before he could ask any more questions, there was a knock at the office and the Fred popped his head into the office.

“ _Oi_ , Professor,” Fred said, coming in, followed closely by George. Riddle straightened himself in his chair, making himself appear like the Professor they had come to know. Harry was still in his chair, not sure if he welcomed the interruption or not.

“Mr. Weasleys. I’m in the middle of another session if it could wait a few minutes—“ Riddle started, but Harry quickly stood up, causing all of them to look at him.

“It’s alright, I need time to think everything over,” Harry without waiting for any reply, grabbed his bag, and pushed past the twins, who questioned him. He ignored Riddle’s call for him, and practically ran towards the Gryffindor tower. It wasn’t until he had put three flights between them, that Harry rested for a moment against the cool stone walls. The portrait above him complained about Harry’s head being so close, but Harry disregarded him. He spent a good while just wandering the hallways, deep in thought. 

It took Harry nearly until curfew before he made it back to the tower. Harry was lucky that it was Easter Holiday, and therefore didn’t have to see Riddle again until he could clearly think. Or at least enough not outright question if he had been tortured by Umbridge.

The weather grew breezier, brighter, and warmer as the holidays passed, but Harry was stuck with the rest of the fifth and seventh years, who were all trapped inside, traipsing back and forth to the library. Harry could pass his poor mood off as being nervous about the exams coming up. Since everyone else was also under pressure due to all the studying, Harry’s excuse went unchallenged. Even by Ron and Hermione, who usually picked up on Harry’s moods better than anyone else.

Hermione had questioned him about Cho, but Harry in all the current turmoil had forgotten about the poor conversation. He dodged it as well as he could, pulling it off that he was still upset about Cho’s friend giving them up to Umbridge. Ron even bought it so much that he went on a rant about it. Harry just nodded along with him, though he was hardly listening.

Ginny had dropped of his Easter package from Mrs. Weasley though. Harry was grateful for the chocolate Easter Eggs, even if they did get kicked out of the library for them. Between worrying about how his father really was, his mother’s seeming loathing for him, Snape’s embarrassment, Riddle’s possible torture at Umbridge’s hands, and the Gryffindor’s Quidditch team being an utter sham, Harry could use whatever little graces he could get. When he mentioned wanting to speak to Sirius to Ginny, she offered to help, saying she would get back to him with something soon.

It didn’t help much when Ron and Hermione were helping him go through possible career choices. Harry never realized how many classes he would have to be an Exceeds in, in order to make something of himself. He knew he was hovering around an Acceptable on most of his classes right now, and even thought Hermione might have a point when she gave him that homework diary last Christmas. He was almost glad when it was interrupted by a summons to McGonagall’s office.

Madam Hooch had gone back to being a coach, allowing McGonagall to pick up as Head of Gryffindor house. Harry walked over to her office, wondering what it could be about.

“So, Potter,” she began and straightened some of the papers on her desk while doing so. She pulled out one, reading it over her spectacles. “It seems you’ve been rather busy this year. I hear you have served numerous detentions with Professor Umbridge?”

Harry clenched his hands in his lap. “Yes.”

“And it says here, the reason why for many of them is because you shouted at her?”

“Yes.”

“You called her a liar on many occasions?”

“Yes.”

“You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?”

“Yes.”

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, “Have a biscuit, Potter.”

“Have -- what?”

“Have a biscuit,” she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin of biscuits lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk.  Harry grabbed one, and slowly started chewing on it. She eyed him for a few moments, as Harry felt just as wrong-footed in her office as he had on many occasions in the past. Once she seemed to be satisfied with what she saw, she continued. “It’s important that since Dumbledore is gone for the time being, that you be careful.”

“I have been,” Harry started and at her stern look, quickly added, “Since Christmas. I’ve watched my mouth in her class. I haven’t even gotten a detention from her since then.”

McGonagall took a moment to look over her paper shrewdly. “It appears so. Someone must have gotten through to you.”

Harry shrunk down in his chair a bit.

“Well, the next time you will be in here, it will be for career advice. Make sure you have put some thought into your choice,” she said, then offered him some more biscuits before shooing him out of her office.

He made it back to the tower, and joined Ron and Hermione in studying. Fred and George crashed their studying group, offering their help to distract Umbridge from her office so Harry could use her fireplace to speak with Sirius. Harry felt a clench in his stomach, thinking about to what he found there, but agreed to go. He needed to settle his mind about his father with them. It didn’t help that the next morning Harry woke up with his nerve completely fried. Today wasn’t just the day he was breaking into Umbridge’s office to use her fireplace, though that would normally be enough, this was also the first day since Snape threw him out of his office that he had a class with him.

When Harry got to class, it seemed he didn’t have to worry as much. Snape had seemed to decide to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernon’s favorites, and on the whole, was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. Even if Malfoy made up for it but tripping him and causing him to break his vial of potion before he could turn it in, it was better than having Snape hover over him like he had all year long.

The next time Harry was in McGonagall’s Office was for career advice. Harry had almost forgotten about it because he was in such a foul mood due to potions, and Hermione’s need to keep reminding him what a terrible idea it was to try to break into Umbridge’s office. He arrived only a few minutes late and completely out of breath. To make matters worse, Umbridge sat in the corner of the room and interrupted McGonagall who was attempting to get across to Harry how hard with would be to become an Auror. He watched as McGonagall and Umbridge got into each other’s faces over him, one saying he would never become an Auror, the other saying she would teach him every night if that’s what it took for him to become one.

Harry left wondering how McGonagall could tell him to watch his temper around Umbridge when she was worse than him. However, he couldn’t stop the grin from appearing on his face thinking about how brilliant it was watching McGonagall give a talking to Umbridge. Harry couldn’t wait to share it with Ron and Hermione, both who seemed just as happy with it as him.

He did feel rather guilty that after McGonagall had stuck up for him, he was going to be breaking the rules. It almost felt like it was all for nothing when Harry finally got the chance to speak with Sirius, and surprised that Lupin was also there, and their account did little to put Harry’s mind at ease. The only good thing to come out of it, was the distraction the twins had put on.

Harry had scrambled out of the office just in time to see the twins call for their brooms. They shot firecrackers at Umbridge, who screamed as she ducked from them. Just before they left, Fred told Peeves to give her hell for them. Peeves, who Harry had never seen take a single order from a student, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute. The rest of the school gave a thunderous applause as Fred and George sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

It seemed that the flight to freedom the twins took sparked rebellion all over the school. More dungbombs, fireworks, and Skiving Snackboxes traveled around the school than ever before. As seriously as the students were taking this, Peeves seemed to be a hundred-fold worse. He would follow Umbridge around making raspberries every time she spoke, to the point that she would give up talking in the hallways at times. The only time Umbridge seemed to have any control or safety was when Riddle showed up. Peeves would take one look at Riddle, offer a deep bow, then dive off to cause mischief elsewhere.

This behavior led to a rumor that Riddle could now control Ghosts with his mind, which Harry knew was rubbish. Riddle was just excellent at making people do what he wanted them to. Even the ghosts.

Harry and Riddle seemed to be in a silent agreement to avoid eye contact with each other. They still talked after classes when it was possible, but they both were stilted. It seemed like a wedge had been pushed between them, and as much as Harry wanted to remove it, it remained. Riddle was being mysteriously silent about it, as though he was pretending it didn’t exist, never bringing it up in conversations. Harry decided if Riddle wasn’t going to talk about it, neither was he. He already had enough on his plate with exams.

His plate got even fuller when during the last Quidditch match of the year, Hagrid pulled him and Hermione from the stands to show them something in the Forbidden Forrest. Harry could hardly believe it when he saw Hagrid’s Half-Brother Grawp who was nearly sixteen feet tall! Hagrid wanted them to teach Grawp English, and he was trying to introduce him to more people so he could become social. Harry didn’t have the heart to tell Hagrid that probably wasn’t possible, and Hermione looked just as dumbstruck as Harry felt.

When they returned to the Gryffindor tower, Ron and the rest of Gryffindor came up cheering. They had somehow won the Quidditch cup. Harry and Hermione agreed to wait until tomorrow to tell Ron about Grawp, though it appeared that was not the best way either seeing as how the next day all Ron wanted to talk about was the match. Harry, while extremely happy that they won, wanted to also get the news off of his chest. Not that him and Hermione tried particularly hard to tell Ron. It was probably the sixth-time Ron was going over the goals, when he finally added in new information though.

“And to think, I got it that move from an original Quidditch book!” Ron said with a smile on his face.

“Wait—what book?” Harry asked, looking up from his studies. They had spread out on the grass the next day under the shade of a tree by the lake. It was one of the few times they had made it outside this year.

“Oh, this one,” Ron said, pulling a book from his bag. The leather bond Quidditch book that Harry had seen once before, in Riddle’s Office during his first detention, now sat in Ron’s lap. “Fred and George gave it to me before they left.”

Harry stared at it for a few moments, before he remembered being interrupted by the Twins while in Riddle’s office. That was probably when they asked for the book. Harry couldn’t think of a single time he had seen Ron with it, but he wasn’t with Ron most of the day anymore. Not between Hermione’s study schedules she had put both of them on, and Ron’s Quidditch practices. That certainly explained some of the improvement from Ron’s playing though.

Harry forced himself back into his own book, only joining the conversation again when Hermione started to explain about Grawp. It took until dinner before Harry could talk about Quidditch again with Ron without feeling the urge to ask him to shut up.

It didn’t help Harry’s nerves that Umbridge practically glared him down in the Great Hall when the examiners came in from their journey. They kept asking about Dumbledore, much to Umbridge’s chagrin, and she took them to the staffroom before any of them could overhear much more. Umbridge had once ducted points from Gryffindor last week, but seemed to stop just short of giving him more detention. Harry was starting to find it rather odd when Umbridge would look up as though watching out for someone, before telling him to be grateful not to have more detentions.

After the third time of this happening, Harry started to become very suspicious. He shared his thoughts with Ron and Hermione.

“Well, it’s good that she’s not giving you a detention every week, isn’t it?” Ron started, already tucking in his dinner.

“I noticed it as well,” Hermione started, putting down her book. She had taken to bringing her whole bag of books to dinners now, and quickly looking up facts and figures between bites.

“I think it might have something to do with the parchment I found,” Harry started, and when Hermione gave him a look, realized he never explained it to her. Once he went over the story, Hermione looked just as horrified as Ron and Harry had the night they unrolled it. She even forgot her books.

“That’s… that’s… torture,” Hermione whispered, shaking slightly. “A whole parchment as tall as you?”

“Yes.”

“Those empty vials you found…” Hermione started, now looking on the verge of being sick or crying. “How many?”

“I don’t know,” Harry started, swallowing thickly. “A few.”

“What do you suppose they were?” Ron asked, even he stopped eating at this point.

“Blood replenishing potions,” Hermione stuttered out, clasping a hand over her mouth and looking upset.

It took Harry a moment to catch on and when he did, he too put a hand over his mouth. Whoever had written on that parchment needed to drink those potions in order to keep writing. It was longer than the few hours Harry had spent writing. It was probably days spent writing those lines… endless lines.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Ron whispered in horror, as he finally caught on.

They all agreed to keep this to themselves, none of them talking about it again, since it made them all sick. Harry absently scratched the back of his own hand where the wounds had faded completely, leaving no scar. He still remembered the sting and the pain whenever the cuts appeared. To think, someone had to endure that punishment for so long. Despite their curiosity to find out who had to go through that punishment, they put it aside for the most part to concentrate on their studies.

Harry did take a look at a few students’ hands when they passed in the halls. Lee Jordan was first but Harry didn’t even see a lingering scar on his hand. When he stayed up to study late at night, he would look around the room to see if anyone was trying to cover up their hands, but it seemed that not a single person Harry saw had a cut, or bleeding hand. He even started paying attention to Umbridge in their classes. Now that he was looking for it, he noticed she never gave out detentions anymore. He wondered what, if any connection, Riddle had to this.  

Harry felt a shiver run down his back, feeling like the answer was right in front of him, but he refused to look.

It wasn’t long until it was time for exams. On the whole, Harry thought it was going rather well. He was even able to earn extra points in Defense Against the Dark Arts right in front of Umbridge with producing a full Patronus. It was one of the few times that he felt he passed without any troubles.

Though it didn’t take long before everyone was panicking as the exams continued through the week. Without Snape being present during potions, Harry thought he avoided a fail. Even Neville looked more relaxed despite the exam without the Potion’s master breathing down their necks. He also found that due to Riddle’s Divination class, he could probably pull a pass for his Astronomy theory exam. He did find that it didn’t help for his Divination exam ironically enough, which even by his poor standards, Harry was sure he failed.

Ron tried to cheer him up by telling him Divination was a lost cause for them anyways.

The exams became worse when during their practical Astronomy when five Aurors and Umbridge came to Hagrid’s hut in the middle of the night. Like many of the people during the exam, Harry watched as they attempted to take Hagrid into custody. McGonagall tried to stop them, only to take five stunning spells to the chest. Harry ran to the edge of the tower, wishing desperately that he had his wand and broom to help her. Even the examiners stopped to watch in horror. Hagrid did end up escaping into the forest, and the Aurors were helpless to follow.

They all walked back to the tower in various states of shock. Many of the girls were crying, but Hermione looked too stunned to cry. All of the Gryffindors stayed in the common room until about four in the morning, talking about it. Everyone seemed to be just as upset about Hagrid as Harry, and not a single person discounted McGonagall’s injury.

Harry, like everyone else, had trouble getting to sleep that night. The next morning, they all pulled themselves from their beds and shambled out to breakfast. Harry used his hands to support his head, trying to get some last-minute studying in for History of Magic exam. It didn’t help that he kept catching himself almost face planting into his breakfast.

It became even worse when he fell asleep during his exam for a moment, right in between two questions Harry was sure he knew the answer to… if he could just remember…

His scar burned as he returned to the corridor. He raced down it at an impossible speed and the door burst open. There was a shadowed figure kneeling in the room this time. Harry’s stomach contracted with fear… with excitement…

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any kindness, “Take it for me… lift it down, now… I cannot touch it… but you can.”

The black shape on the floor shifted but made no move to stand up. Harry saw his own hand… bone white and long fingered as it wrapped around a familiar wand made of yew. “ _Crucio!”_

The man screamed and writhed on the floor in agony. Harry laughed at the pathetic attempts from the man who tried to stand but failed. He watched for a few moments, before flicking his wand and allowing the man a moment to breathe.

Harry felt his heart stop in his chest as the man slowly turned, blood coating one side of his face, and revealed himself to be Sirius. Sirius, who spat at Harry’s robes and defined him, saying he would rather die than help. Another scream as Lord Voldemort lowered his wand again, and Harry found himself falling from his desk to the ground, still yelling, and his scar on fire, the Great Hall erupted all around him.

Harry was ushered out of the Great Hall by a kind old Wizard who offered his sympathies, believing that Harry was just cracking under exam pressure. Harry barely waited long enough for the Wizard’s shoes to disappear before racing as fast as he could to the Hospital Wing. McGonagall would be the best bet, since she had connections to the Order.

Harry burst into the Hospital wing, causing Madam Pomfrey to let out a shriek. He asked to see McGonagall, only to be told that she had been transported to St. Mungo’s that morning. Harry could hear the bell ring just outside the dormitory, and he heard the usual distant rumbling of students below as they flooded out into the corridors. He remained quite still, looking at Madam Pomfrey. Terror was rising inside him.

There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid had fled, McGonagall now being transported out…

Harry wheeled around and dashed out of the Hospital Wing, taking multiple steps in bounds. He shouldered students out of his way, getting elbows in his ribs as he did so. The panic was swelling inside of him, as his mouth dried out from his panting. He pushed his way into the third-floor corridor and without knocking, came into Riddle’s office. Riddle, who was in the middle of pinning another paper to his ever-growing chart, paused. 

“He’s got my Godfather!”  

Harry panted in the door way for a few moments, feeling tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision, and his panic now consuming him. Riddle came over to him slowly, pulling Harry by the collar into his office and shutting his door.

“Who has your Godfather?” he asked quietly.

“Voldemort,” Harry all but sobbed, feeling his heart pound in his chest, and his breath catching. “He’s got Sirius in the Department of Mysteries! He’s torturing him! He said he’s going to kill him!”

Riddle took a deep breath, and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry let himself be led into a chair, but was shaking by the time he sat down. That same green blanket was thrown over his shoulders but Harry couldn’t feel the warmth it brought last time. Riddle quickly walked over to the other side of his desk, pulled out a piece of parchment, and wrote something down in haste. No sooner was he done with it, that it burst into flames and vanished.

“The word is out now, Potter,” Riddle assured him, waving a hand and conjuring the same tea Harry has had numerous of times. Harry didn’t think he could so much as hold a cup at the moment, let alone drink any of it. Riddle seemed to figure that out as well, kneeling in front of Harry. “Stay here, until you can finish a cup without shaking. I’ll be back.”

Harry turned to watch Riddle stride to the door. “Where are you going?”

“Apparently, the Department of Mysteries,” Riddle said, lifting his chin slightly, and giving a half smirk. “Wish me luck.”

Without another word, Riddle left the office and a stunned Harry behind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment and/or Kudos. Thank you!


	16. Fall of Two

Harry sat in the chair with the thick, woven green blanket draped over his shoulders, and stared at the door Riddle just exited. The sinking feeling in his stomach was returning in full force as the office remained quiet, and only the distant chattering of students could be heard. It seemed wrong that there were no screams of horror, or anyone sounding upset, when Harry knew something awful was happening somewhere else. He clenched his jaw shut, turned back around, and reached for the tea. He barely made it to the kettle when thoughts started to hit him.

What if Riddle was going alone? Surely, he wouldn't try to confront Voldemort and whatever number of Death Eaters he was sure to bring, completely by himself?

Who would even back him up in this? He didn't doubt that Riddle could speak to members of the Order now, but Snape wouldn't trust him, not with now knowing who he was. Would he have spread that knowledge to anyone else in the Order? What if no one believed Riddle because they thought he was Voldemort in disguise and this was just a plot to lure them all out?

What if Sirius died before anyone could get to him?

The tipping of a kettle was heard as Harry dropped it, and dashed out the door, leaving the woven blanket on the ground in his wake. The panic once again started to seize his heart as he strode blindly from Riddle's office into the teeming corridor.

Ron and Hermione, said a voice in his head.

He was running again, pushing students once more, ignorant of their shouts and complaints. He sprinted back down towards to Great Hall, and when he reached the top of the marble staircase, he spotted them hurrying toward him.

"Harry!" said Hermione at once, looking very frightened. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron.

"Come with me," Harry said quickly, all but dragging them by their sleeves. All three of them raced up to an empty classroom, shutting the door behind them. Hermione smartly pulled out her wand and cast a silencing charm on the door, before wheeling around on him. Harry took a breath.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

"What?"

Harry quickly explained his vision that he had during the exam, his race around Hogwarts, and his meeting with Riddle. When he reached the end, he did wish he took at least a single cup of tea with him to help calm his nerves. He supported himself on a desk, trying to master his nerves. Hermione and Ron didn't look any better, both pale, and wide eyed.

"How're we going to get there?" Harry asked them.

There was a moment's silence. The Ron said, "G-get there?"

"We have to get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can back up Riddle and save Sirius!" Harry said loudly.

It took far longer than Harry would have liked to convince them what he saw was real. It also took a lot of shouting on Harry's part, which drew the attention of Ginny, and Luna. Harry kept telling them that they were wasting time just talking about it. Riddle was taking it seriously, so there must be something to it. They decided they needed to check on Sirius first and if he wasn't home then they agreed to go. Ron ran off to find Umbridge and distract her, Ginny and Luna would be look outs, and Harry grabbed the knife he got from Sirius that could pick any lock and his father's cloak. He tucked that into his pocket. They raced together towards Umbridge's office. Him and Hermione went under the invisibility cloak before picking the lock, and going inside.

Once inside Harry went straight to the fireplace and cast the spell to view number twelve. Kreacher was there, sneering at him and telling him Sirius has been gone for a while. When Harry pushed for an answer, Kreacher cackled madly, saying master was never coming back from the Department of Mysteries. Harry felt his heart clench, not wanting to believe it. He ignored the shaking on his shoulder until it was too late.

Harry was dragged out of the fireplace by his hair. Umbridge's hand firmly gripped him tight, until tears were springing to the corner of his eyes. The Inquisitor's Squad apparently were already in the act of catching Ginny, and Luna who had joined Ron and Hermione in the Office. What surprised Harry was seeing Neville get dragged in as well. Apparently, he tried to stop them from taking Ginny. All of them were marched back into Umbridge's office. It took all of Harry's self-control to not try a wandless hex Umbridge on the spot so he could leave to save Sirius. Not that Harry had ever done a wandless hex, but it worth a try at this point.

Harry watched as Umbridge's lips split into an unpleasant smile while she lectured all of them. She leaned into Harry's space, requesting Malfoy go fetch Professor Snape. He did so with glee.

"I know you have been communicating with Dumbledore all year Potter," Umbridge started, pulling up to her full, unimpressive height. "Now tell me, where is he?"

"I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you," hissed Harry, wanting to reach for his wand. Umbridge seemed to notice the movement, and grabbed his wand from Malfoy, to toy with it in front of Harry's face.

"I don't think you'll be needing this anytime soon," she said with a dainty hand against her lips as she let out a little laugh. Most of the Inquisitor Squad joined her. Just as she did, Harry noticed a light mark on the back of her hand that seemed to travel all the way up her wrist, past her pink ruffled cuff.

It couldn't be... but it made a sick sort of sense. Umbridge was starting to ask Harry multiple questions but Harry wasn't listening to a single word, his eyes fixated on Umbridge's hand. Why hadn't he noticed this whole time? The parchment rolled up in her office, Riddle using that phrase, Umbridge no longer giving any detentions even to the worse offenders. Riddle had the potential to be Voldemort after all... what was a little torture here and there? Especially on someone like Umbridge. But Riddle was kind too... Harry swore he was going to judge Riddle on his actions and not that of Voldemort's, he couldn't start now. Not when Sirius's life depended on him.

Harry watched as Snape appeared in the doorway, not looking concerned. Snape should be gone with Riddle!

The Order didn't know. Riddle must have left by himself. Harry glared at Snape, who told Umbridge he didn't have any more stores of Veritaserum to lend to her. Umbridge threatened Snape's job, but Snape didn't seem bothered in the least. Meanwhile, Harry's heart was hammering in his chest, and only became worse when he realized Snape was leaving.

"He's gone to the place where it's kept."

There was a moment's silence in the room where everyone turned to look at Harry, who was practically shaking in his chair.

"What does that mean? Who has gone where?" Umbridge questioned, sticking her stubby wand in Harry's face. When he just pursed his lips shut and glared at her, she turned to Snape who stood still in the doorway. "What is he talking about?"

Another moment passed then, "I haven't a clue. If I wanted to have nonsense shouted at me, I would have asked Mr. Longbottom for potion answers. Speaking of Longbottom… Crabbe loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

Crabbe shook Neville a bit, who was turning red under the treatment, before slacking slightly. Harry heard Neville's rememball fall from his pocket, it rolled across the floor and stopped at Harry's foot, turning red.

Umbridge seemed satisfied with Snape's answer, letting him go, but Harry felt dread fall over him. Did Snape already forget their lessons where he saw the corridor? Surely, Snape would know the person Harry was referring to. Harry watched as Snape's robes disappeared around the corner and he felt like the last bit of hope leave his body.

Umbridge bared down on him, threatening use of the  _Cruciatus_  curse, which made Hermione gasp. Umbridge then explained how hard it has been trying to get rid of, or at least silence Harry, admitting to sending the Dementors on Harry during the summer. Harry glared at her, thinking that maybe she deserved every line she was forced to write by Riddle for this.

That's when an idea hit Harry like a slap across the face.

"I feel harmed Professor," Harry said, feeling slightly foolish but determined that he had this right. He watched as the Inquisitor Squad laughed at him, feeling his ears turn red, but Umbridge had gone very pale suddenly.

"W-what did you say?" She practically whispered.

"I feel harmed, you are harming me," Harry said in a clear voice. Umbridge sprang back as though she had been burned. She rubbed her hand, shaking, and pale.

The Inquisitor Squad stopped laughing as they noticed the look on Umbridge's face. They all glanced at each other, not knowing what to do, when Hermione's confused face cleared up suddenly, looking slightly horrified, but resolute.

"I feel harmed Professor," she said, wincing at the grip Pansy had on her. Like Umbridge was programmed, she made a cutting motion with her wand that dislodged Pansy from Hermione immediately and just as quickly, Ginny started saying she felt harmed. Umbridge spun around, cursing her own Squad so they would release the DA. Everyone was shouting, Harry scrambled forward in the confusion, grabbed his wand, and while Umbridge still had her grubby hand on it, cast a Stupify right at Umbridge's chest.

Then all hell broke loose. Harry scooped up the rememball, tucking it under his shirt, so he could have both hands free to fight. He dove under Umbridge's desk just as Malfoy's spell zoomed overhead. Someone punched another person, as Harry could hear the scream of pain and a broken nose. He ducked out from the desk, sending a hex at Malfoy who was trying to jinx Ron. The office filled with spells, books, tea sets, kitten pictures, and candies flying everywhere in the chaos.

The DA made it out of the office, leaving behind multiple stunned people, including an enraged Umbridge whose face was frozen in fury as she fell to the ground, breaking her office chair on the way. None of them bothered to see how long the spell would last, each running down the stairs to the entrance to the school.

They paused by the oak doors, and Hermione let out a cry.

"We attacked a teacher!"

"Say that louder Hermione, I don't think they heard you all the way in Durmstrang," hissed Ron, grabbing her arm. She shook herself, before leaning against him, looking over at Harry.

"Anyone who wants to distance themselves from this, leave now. I'm going to save Sirius, and Riddle," Harry announced. He was amazed when not a single person left, but Ginny looked very alarmed. Harry winced, remembering what that name meant to Ginny.

"We'll explain who they are on the way," said Ron, looking around as though for a sign. "Well, after we find a way."

As luck would have it, Grawp had gotten free during the night and was stomping around the Forbidden Forest, which chased out a few of the Thestrals, which Luna suggested they use to get to the Ministry. It took a little bit of work as only a few of them could see the creatures, but soon all six of them were off to the Ministry. Due to the wind whipping around their ears, none of them could talk to each other. Harry could feel the unease creep back into his stomach during the trip.

They all arrived safely, if not a bit frightened from the trip, on the steps of the Ministry of Magic. Harry led them to the phone booth where they made their way inside to the big hall with fireplaces lined on either side. Harry found it very odd and unsettling that there wasn't a single guard around. Only the sound of the water coming out of the fountain in the center was heard.

"Wands out," said Harry, leading the way.

They held together in a tight group as they traveled down to the Department of Mysteries. The elevator taking them deeper into the Ministry did little to quell the bundle of nerves that had settled into Harry's stomach. A female voice calmly announced their floor before there was a loud bang of the grate as it opened. They did little to alleviate his fears. He didn't appear to be the only one effected since Ron, Neville, and Ginny all jumped when the elevator stopped.

Harry was the first to look out, making sure the coast was clear. The silent hallways were all that greeted him and he waved everyone out to follow him. Harry paused around a corner, and saw the same corridor he had been dreaming of for the past year.

"This way," Harry whispered, moving forward, and felt everyone at his back. When Harry reached about half way down the corridor, he felt a shiver go down his spine that had nothing to do with the cool air. Something was wrong. His scar should be nearly on fire being this close to Voldemort, but all he has been getting is a minor ache.

Harry stopped suddenly causing Ginny to bump into his back.

"What's going on?" Ginny whispered, her wand poking out over Harry's shoulder, like she was ready to fight a threat.

"Something's wrong," answered Harry, turning slightly to everyone else. "This feels like a trap."

"What should we do Harry?" Asked Neville, who looked scared but held his wand firmly out.

Harry thought for a moment. If he was going to be honest, he wouldn't have picked Ginny, Luna, and Neville to come with him on this. But, he knew they couldn't go back the way they came, not now that they reached so far. Harry looked back at the elevator, then back down at the plain black door. He knew the moment they stepped into that room they were all going to be in trouble. Or at least watched until they were ambushed.

"Shield charm and gather close together. If we all cast it, then it will be stronger," Harry advised. He could feel someone at either elbow now, as they formed a circle. A misty silver light appeared around them as they cast their shield charms. Harry hoped that would be enough for whatever happened. "If you see anything, whisper it. We don't want them to know we're aware of them."

A chorus of replies answered, all low and barely audible even in the empty hallway. Harry couldn't help the swell of pride at how quickly everyone reacted and took to his instructions. Harry lead them further down the corridor and pushed open the door with ease.

They went into a room that rotated, flashing a blue light in their eyes, temporarily blinding them. It took them a moment to realize, it was to prevent them from knowing which door they came out of. Harry didn't bother despairing over it, knowing they were stuck no matter what once they entered the room. He lead them to a few different doors, some of them going nowhere, others to horrible things, but just as quickly as Harry could open a door, he would shut it if it wasn't correct room. This lead to several minutes of just opening doors, until on chance, Harry found the correct one.

Before he did find the correct one, Harry opened a room with an archway in it, and a glimmering veil in it. There were whispers coming from it, murmurs, and it took Hermione some time to drag Harry away from it. He shook his head, having everyone reform into the group, and continuing their search. It took a few more tries, then Harry found it.

The glinting room filled with shelves, all containing spun glass spheres opened to him. The ceilings were so high Harry wasn't sure where the shelves ended, as they drifted up into shadows. Harry cast  _lumos_  on his wand, dropping his own shield charm to rely on the others, lighting the way down to the numbered shelf from his dreams, and his recent vision of Sirius.

The most unnerving thing about the room was how utterly silent it was. Harry knew he was tricked, Sirius wasn't there or worse yet, he was, and was already dead. Harry refused to believe Sirius could be dead, leading them to the shelf, the only sounds were the shuffling of their shoes as they moved together as one. Harry could see others recasting their shield charm to strengthen them, causing the spun-glass orbs to reflect silver light across the room. A low level of sight was open to them now, and even before reaching the proper shelf, Harry could see there were no body around it. His heart unclenched ever so slightly.

"Is he here?" Asked Ron quietly to Harry's back-right.

"I thought we were looking for two people?" Neville whispered.

"They aren't here, but whatever Voldemort wants, is here," answered Harry just as quietly and ignoring Neville who shuttered when Harry said Voldemort's name.

"Let's grab it and go then," Ginny suggested, her voice shaking.

"Wasn't Professor Thomason supposed to be here?" Murmured Hermione to Harry's back-left.

"He said he was coming here," Harry glanced around, still not seeing anything yet, but darkness and endless shelves.

"What if he was already here, saved Sirius, and grabbed what You-Know-Who wanted?" Suggested Ron, though Harry could tell without looking that even he didn't believe that.

"We can hope," answered Harry, rounding a corner. He was getting very close to the sphere. He could feel it in his gut. The dust on the shelves here were disturbed. Harry remembered the articles talking about people recently dying after coming in this room. They were probably trying to get the sphere Voldemort wanted.

"Why would Professor Thomason be here, and who is Sirius? You don't mean Black, do you?" Asked Neville.

"And who is Riddle," asked Ginny in a cool voice, reminding Harry she didn't forget his slip.

"It's a very long story but Sirius Black is a good guy. He was framed," Harry continued to lead them down the hall, adjusting the grip on his wand. The light from his wand passed over the shelves, revealing names etched on plates just below the spheres. "Thomason knows this and said he was coming here to save Sirius. And... Thomason's middle name is Riddle," Harry finished lamely, refusing to turn his head so he could conceal his pained expression from Ginny. However, he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

There was a pause in conversation and Harry tried not to make himself look as guilty as he felt.

Then Harry felt Neville shrug against his shoulder. "All right."

"I believe you," said Luna, somewhere behind Ron, still sounding dreamy even when whispering.

"We're with you," Ginny added, her elbow reaching back to nudge Harry. “No matter what.”

Harry felt a swell of emotions at that instant. He wanted nothing more than to keep them safe in this moment. These five who let Harry lead them into danger to protect someone they didn't even know, a suspected murderer, just because Harry cared about him. Harry had to pause for a moment when it all hit him at once. He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder from Hermione, gently squeezing it before returning to her lookout. Harry wasn't sure how she always knew, but he was grateful for it.

"All right, mate?" asked Ron. Harry nodded.

"Look for something with my name on it, but don't travel outside the Shield," advised Harry, hovering his wand over the name plates in the room. It didn't take long, since Harry knew the area they were supposed to be searching in. Ron found it, pointing it out to him.

Harry took a deep breath, glancing at everyone while his hand hovered over the sphere. "When I grab this, we'll probably be attacked." Everyone shifted, tensing up. Neville grew pale, and Ron shook. "Everyone ready?"

Once everyone gave the nod, Harry snatched the ball and tucked it to his chest, stepping into the circle of his friends immediately. Not a moment later, from a few feet behind Harry, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Harry discreetly tucked it into his robes, and turned to look at the black shapes that were emerging out of thin air all around them. They were surrounded in a moment by a dozen or so people dressed in all dark hoods with slits in them, all their wands were pointing directly at their hearts.

"To me, Potter," repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up.

"I want to know where Sirius is first," Harry snapped at them, his hands slipping under his shirt to grab something, still hidden in the middle of the group. The black shapes hissed at him for moving beyond their sight, and Harry stilled. Without his wand producing anymore light, or his friends being able to cast a shield charm, Harry couldn’t see the protective silver mist around them anymore. He clenched his jaw, refusing to shake.

Several of the Death Eaters did laugh at Harry. A harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to Harry's left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," echoed Malfoy softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!" Harry, despite his best efforts was starting to shake, glaring at the narrow slit that showed Lucius's eyes.

The woman mocked him, but Harry wasn't paying attention to her. His friends were holding still, their wands still raised. Harry asked for Sirius again, if only to give them more time. Harry decided the one thing he could do, is keep them talking while he tried to think of a plan. Even if he couldn’t come up with anything he could stand their mocking if it gave them just a little bit longer to hang on while Riddle showed up, or better yet, if the Order with Dumbledore appeared.

As though that thought alone summoned him, Harry felt a prickle in his scar again, and a shape darted out the corner of his eye. Harry felt his heart beating faster in his chest, practically drowning out that horrible woman's mock-baby talk as she made the others laugh at them. The barest hints of a shimmer surrounded Harry and his friends so quickly, Harry thought he must have imagined it, but it made him steel his nerves.

Harry crept closer to the front, holding out a glass ball, barely bigger than his fist. Once he noticed all the Death Eaters watching his hand carefully, Harry jumped to action.

"You want it? Then catch!" Harry yelled before throwing it as hard as he could, aiming it just over Malfoy's shoulder. All the dark figures turned to in a panic, Malfoy scrambled to catch it as it nearly sailed just over him, and into the shelves the shadows. Just as most of the hooded figures turned to watch Lucius catch the glass ball, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville all raised their wands.

“STUPEFY!” they all shouted at once, their spells shooting out.

Harry's caught Lucius by the shoulder, causing him to stumble to the ground, Ginny's landed on a figure to the side, causing him to yelp in pain as he was flung into the shelves behind him. Ron's went a little wide, catching the shelf but it toppled over nearly crushing a Death Eater, while Hermione's stunned another one. Luna and Neville got two as well but the Death Eaters were back on their feet almost as soon as they were hit.

Harry’s heart leapt in his throat as he watched helplessly as five streams of light come out from different wands around the room towards them, only to hit a silver shield charm stronger than any of them could have created. The whole room seemed to vibrate with the sheer force, causing the shelf near Harry and his friends, to topple over. Much to Harry's dismay, they all had to scattered to get away from the collapsing shelf, breaking their formation and the strong shield spell they had over them, which vanished in a smoky wisp.

"RUN!" Harry yelled while he turned on his heel towards the larger group of still standing Death Eaters, bellowing "REDUCTO!"

The remaining shelves began to crumble under the new spell, causing hundreds of glass spheres to fall to the ground. The woman who had been mocking Harry earlier let out a scream, scrambling through the mess, most likely looking for the sphere Harry had thrown, since Lucius seemed too dazed to hold onto it. This left about five Death Eaters to chase them. Harry ran to catch up with the others, who were already heading back towards the door they entered.

"Keep tipping the shelves!" Harry shouted, only a few paces away from Ron, who slowed down to block the girls from the Death Eaters. Neville was running alongside Ginny and Luna, while Hermione was leading the way. Harry saw Neville and Ginny release several spells, one nearly hitting Harry, but instead striking the Death Eater who was reaching out to grab Harry's shoulder. That Death Eater fell to the ground with a yelp.

Hermione reached the door first, pulled it open, and waved everyone through. Harry barely made it past the threshold when Hermione slammed it shut. She waved her wand, and with a “ _Colloportus_!” the door sealed itself.

"That won't hold for long," she warned, panting with exertion, but Harry doubted anyone would have thought it would lock them in for good. Especially with several Death Eaters right on their tails, all furious over losing them.

"Let's go into another room to hide," Ron suggested, grabbing Ginny by the hand, and pulling her towards a door without waiting for anyone. Harry thought it was the best plan they had, following along. Luna, Hermione, and Neville also came along without any complaints.

Harry shut the door behind them this time, hearing a distant 'Alohomora!' being shouted. They all were now ducked inside the room with the archway, and the veil. Harry looked around, seeing that there was no other door to get out of this room from.

"We're trapped," whispered Ginny, looking around in horror, the tip of her wand glowing.

"Stay quiet," Harry hissed, waving them together. "Get together, and in a circle like before. Our shield worked, until we moved. We might be able to hold off for longer."

“This might help,” said Luna, wondering up to the door as casting a locking spell on it. The door sealed itself much like the one Hermione charmed.

“Good thinking,” Harry said, nodding. He glanced around, trying to make sure they hadn’t over looked any exit that might just be out of sight. “Hopefully we can hold up here until help arrives.”

"Yes, but now they will have gotten whatever it was that Voldemort wanted," Hermione said, moving to stand next to Harry this time instead of behind him as they started to form their protection circle again.

"Oh," said Harry, reaching into his robes, and pulled out the glass sphere. "You mean this?"

Four pair of eyes looked at him in bemusement, while Luna looked just mildly surprised with an odd smile on her face. There was a pause.

"What did you actually throw?" asked Hermione.

"Neville's rememball. I picked it up in Umbridge's office."

"Did you just trick some of the most powerful Death Eaters with a rememball?" Ron asked, looking somewhere between amused and desperately afraid. Possibly sick.

"Yes." Harry looked over at a stunned Neville, with a shrug, "Sorry about that."

"No problem," he replied, a shaky smile blooming on his face. "Never remembered what I forgot anyways."

The elation they felt over Harry’s clever trick quickly faded because the Death Eaters were getting closer to their room every second they stayed. Harry ignored the whispers from the veil this time, his own heart pounding too hard in his ears for him to care. He took the lead position again in the front, as the silver mist of a shield charm made its way around all of them again. Harry felt his heart clench when it didn’t look nearly as strong as it was before. He hoped he was wrong.

"Now, remember, this only works on most spells. Dodge if you have to, but try to stay close," Harry said in a calm voice that didn't match his shaking hand. He cast an anti-summoning spell on the prophecy, before slipping it into his pocket this time.

Everyone remained tense, constantly recasting the shield charm, attempting to strengthen it with each pass before it could fade. Harry ignored the twinge of pain in his scar, as it had been hurting off and on all night, and the sense of dread that kept washing over him.

They waited for what seemed like hours, but could only have been minutes, when the door burst open. Three shadowy figures stood there for only the time it took for a single heart beat to pass, before spells were fired at the group. They impacted the shield charm, causing the ground to shake under Harry’s feet but he held firm, casting the first thing he could think of, barely missing his target. The figures separated, making Harry turn to pick one off at a time.

“ _Impedimenta_!” Harry shouted knocking one of the Death Eaters off his feet. The small victory was crush as Harry could feel the sheer force of spells as they bounced off the shield charm, sounding like someone was crackling wood in a fire right next to his head. The shield charm only took a few hits before a shattering sound like glass breaking rang around the room and he knew the shield had fallen.

The woman who mocked him earlier was concentrating her spells right at Neville, who couldn't keep up with the attacks. Harry made a split-second decision, pointing his wand at Neville’s legs, and used a trip jinx just in time as a red streak passed over where Neville's head used to be, and barely missing Luna's ear. By the time Harry turned back around, more than a dozen shadowy figures were in the room all pointing their wands. Harry gripped his wand tightly, ready to fight, when Lucius stormed into the room with his hand raised to stop the Death Eaters.

"STOP! POTTER'S GOT THE PROPHECY STILL!" he shouted, holding out the cracked rememball Harry had tossed over his shoulder earlier, then smashed it to pieces on the ground. The shattering of the ball seemed to make all the Death Eaters freeze, the spells stopped abruptly, and Harry took a glance around.

It seemed for the most part their shield trick was working, but some of the spells did manage to get through. Neville had a bleeding nose, Ron's shoulder looked like he was hiding a snitch under his shirt with how swollen it was, Hermione was pale with bits of her hair smoking, and Harry couldn't see the other two without turning. He could hear Neville standing up, now being help by Ginny and Luna.

"Listen Potter, hand over the prophecy like a good boy…" Lucius said through his teeth, pulling off his hood. "And we'll consider letting your friends leave here alive. You know we can make this much worse for you."

Harry opened his mouth to answer him, when a shiver went down his spine again, and his scar gave a sharp pain, making his eyes screw shut for a moment. Harry's head shot up after it, and he looked around the room quickly, worried of about which person caused that reaction.

"What are you looking for Potter? There’s no way out of here," Lucius sneered, approaching the group slowly like they were skittish animals. "And no one is coming to save you this time."

His scar pinched in pain once more, as Harry was sure his eyes connected with someone in the dark just over Lucius's shoulder. Harry felt a swooping in his gut, elated. The figure shifted just behind Lucius now, who was too busy staring at Harry to notice.

Harry took a deep breath, trembling, and let out a sigh of absolute relief. "You're late."

"What—" was all Lucius got out before the air warmed with the sheer force of the spell that knocked him off his feet, soaring harmlessly over the group and landing a few feet from the archway hard.

It was as if everyone in the room was frozen in time, as a figure wearing midnight blue robes, a high collar, and a faceless silvered mask came into the light. A familiar tilt of his head, and hands wandless, as he approached Harry and his friends. Those blue eyes Harry had come to know were looking at him, slightly crinkled as though he were smiling under that mask.

"Potter, you may want to hide," whispered the figure with a silky voice.

As though whatever spell had fallen over the room finally broke, several jets of curses collided right where Riddle was standing.

_CRACK!_

Harry was blasted off his feet as the spells combined, landing several feet away. Harry groaned in pain as he rolled over, feeling another person to his right. He squinted open his eyes to see Hermione next to him, blood from a few shallow cuts on her face, but otherwise looking all right.

They remained on the ground, trying to making themselves less of a target, but Harry couldn't keep his head down as he tried to see what was going on. A nearly blinding light flashed across the room as a body flew across the hall straight into the archway. Harry watched as the veil seemingly grabbed the person, and Harry knew that person was never going to be seen again. He turned his head away, feeling ill, and could see shadowy figures dodging around the masked figure of Riddle.

"Is that Riddle?" Hermione whispered next to him, her eyes wide in awe.

"Yes," Harry answered, his heart fluttering for a moment in joy as he saw another Death Eater be stunned on the ground with the flash of a bone white wand barely peeking out the end of Riddle's robes. Harry never thought he would be glad to see that horrible wand but it was tucked away before anyone else could spot it. Riddle was already moving, barely being missed by streaks of light, much to the frustration of the Death Eaters.

Harry heard someone moving to his right, and without thinking pulled his wand out a cast a Stupefy. The Death Eater dodged it, grabbed Harry’s collar and dragged him across the rocky ground. A meaty hand gripped around Harry’s neck, squeezing until Harry could feel his windpipe almost collapse. Harry kicked out with his feet and scratched at the hand that cut off his breathing, when a jet of blue hit the man on the chest, causing him to seize up for a moment, release Harry, then crumple to the ground unmoving. A frazzled Hermione pulled a coughing Harry away and towards where the rest of the DA had gathered to hide. Spells whizzed over their heads, barely missing by inches, before they skidded down where everyone else was.

A Death Eater’s shadow appeared before them, raising his wand to strike, then he froze for a moment and collapsed on the ground. The dark figure with the silver mask was standing just behind the fallen Death Eater, waved his hand, and a familiar silver mist fell over the group. Within a blink of an eye, the figure vanished again, just as a green spell that made Harry’s insides quiver at the mere sight, streaked through right where Riddle was standing just moments before. It struck the stone instead, causing a few pebbles to tumble on the shield charm, bouncing off harmlessly.

Harry felt hands shaking him, looking up to see a pale faced Ron. They stared at one another for a moment, Harry nodded to an unasked question, and both turned to watch the battle.

"Who is that?" asked Ginny on the other side of Ron, wiping some of the dirt and blood from her forehead.

"Would you believe me if I said Professor Thomason?" asked Harry, failing to hide a shaky grin on his face. The others looked stunned, except for Ron and Hermione, who also split into matching grins. They all turned to watch their teacher take on the eight remaining Death Eaters.

A shadowed figure crept up behind Riddle, just a few feet away from where Harry was hiding, and raised his wand. “ _Avada_ -“

Without thinking Harry leaned out of his hiding spot and hit the Death Eater in the back with a stunning spell, just as he was casting the killing curse at Riddle's back. The spell veered off, hitting the edge of the archway instead of Riddle. Riddle turned slightly, to inspect the damage before returning to his battle. Two Death Eaters turned towards Harry, coming at them for the interruption. Harry readied himself for them when a yellow streak of light came from Harry’s left and streaked off the shield charm, melting the stone near his feet. Harry, shocked, turned.

“STUPEFY!”

A spell whizzed past Harry’s head, and struck the shadow figure in front of him. With a grunt, the figure fell to the ground, unmoving. Harry turned to see Neville standing with his wand out, wide eyed.

“I did it!” Neville cried out, then jumped backwards as a curse struck the shield right where Neville’s chest would be. But, the spell did hit the tip of Neville’s wand that was just outside of the shield, shattered it with a horrible cracking sound. Neville dropped the smoking wand immediately, shaking his hand as though burned.

“Don’t leave the shield!” Harry shouted, ducking back into their hiding spot. The two Death Eaters who were approaching them, was struck by a spell, and knocked off their feet. Riddle’s masked face was turned in their direction, but quickly spun around to deal with the others. The knocked down Death Eaters, slowly and shakenly got back to their feet though.

Just as Harry was sure they were going to have to save Riddle from another attack, the door to the room burst open. Everyone turned to see five people sprint into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley.

Harry felt like he had just been shocked, and an almost frenzied laugh escaped his lips. They were saved. There was no way the Death Eaters were going to be able defeat Riddle, and the Order at once— _they were saved_!

Harry watched as a Death Eater attempted to leave, scrambling away from the fighting, but Kingsley pulled him back as though by an invisible lasso, knocking him unconscious. Tonks was busy chasing down another who was quickly realizing he was over powered by the smaller duelist, and Sirius was confronting the woman, who had her mask off as Harry could see was Bellatrix. Sirius seemed to almost be taunting as he fought her, knocking her spells off to the side as he moved forward.

A sudden  _BOOM_  echoed through the hall, and two more Death Eaters fell. Harry snapped around, but didn't see where it had come from. Moody was standing over one of the figures though, so it may have been from him. Lupin was near him, already dodging a curse that flew just over his head.

Harry heard a laugh to his right, turning back to watch as Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light. While Sirius looked almost joyful during the fight, Bellatrix's eyes were growing wider as she noticed exactly how the fight was quickly turning with the sudden arrivals. She was only one of six Death Eaters still standing in the room, but even that number was quickly falling.

Sirius taunted her once more, not even sending another spell her way, laughing, as he stepped in front of the archway.

The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.

The next few minutes went by in a blur for Harry as the horrifying realization hit him of what just occurred. The next thing Harry knew, he was bolting up the stairs in pursuit of a fleeing Bellatrix, ignoring the shouts of everyone behind him.

Harry chased her through three different rooms, dodging her spells, and continuing with a furious pace he had no idea he could obtain. His nostrils flaring out to keep up with his heavy breathing, and his feet thumping against the stone floor, determined to catch up to the cackling woman who killed Sirius.

He was so focused on catching up to her, he barely moved out of the way of her curse in time, hiding behind the fountain statue in the main hall way. She was so close to getting away, but instead she mocked Harry. They shouted spells back and forth for a moment, before she offered to give him a chance if he rolled the prophecy out to her. Harry touched the shape in his pocket, surprised it hadn’t broken in all the chaos.

“It’s gone! It broke, I smashed it,” Harry shouted at her. Just then, pain seared across his forehead. His scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage. "And he knows!" said Harry with a mad laugh. He couldn't believe that both were convinced, but Harry was past the point of caring. Sirius was dead, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. If he could keep the prophecy out of Voldemort’s hands, and have Bellatrix punished by him, then that was good enough for Harry.

Bellatrix desperately tried to call the prophecy to her, but it lay still in Harry's pocket without so much as a twitch in her direction. Harry would have to thank Riddle for the spell, if he lived through this night. Bellatrix started begging Voldemort not the punish her, Harry thinking maybe she was going mad from fear, then pain in Harry's scar became so bad that he had to close to his eyes against it, and that high, cold voice rung out in the hall.

"So, you smashed the prophecy, Potter?"

Harry opened his eyes to see the tall, thin, and black-hooded figure with his snakelike face white and gaunt. His scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes staring coldly… then snapping up to the side next to Harry who stood frozen in place.

"Lord Voldemort, I presume," asked a silky voice to Harry's right. Harry stiffly turned his head up, and saw the silvered faceless mask with blue eyes so unlike Voldemort's staring out from under it. Harry’s scar was still throbbing in pain with the presence of two people he had a connection with so close, but Harry felt like he had been doused with warm water that calmed his nerves. He might live.  

Voldemort paused in his action, his eyes narrowing almost to slits at the figure in front of him, and another jolt of fury burst through Harry, making him wince. Harry shivered under the intensity of that stare, even though it wasn’t directed at him, and felt like he might be ill.

"How dare you speak his name, you unworthy filth," Bellatrix spat, drawing her wand. She quickly seemed to remember how the man standing next to Harry took down so many Death Eaters, and stepped closer to Voldemort’s side, which only made the Dark Lord glower.

"I dare a lot of things, Lestrange," Riddle answered quietly yet his voice seemed to echo in the hall, looking unbothered by the pair of wands pointing in his direction or the furious looks he was getting. He took an easy step, blocking Harry from Voldemort’s gaze in doing so, continuing unconcerned. He lifted his chin, like Harry had seen so many times before, and asked, "Does she heel on command as well?"

“YOU BA—“

“Silence, Bella,” hissed Voldemort, still eyeing the figure that appeared in front of him. Bellatrix grew pale, almost shrinking under the command. “I shall deal with you in a moment.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Riddle said, with an air of amusement. “I see she does.”

Voldemort appeared to be caught off guard by the man in front of him. His nostrils flared in agitation as he took a few steps to the side, his wand pointing to the ground as though he were undaunted with the two people before him. Harry felt himself shudder as the Dark Lord tilted his head in a serpent-like fashion, something Harry was starting to only attribute to Riddle.

The dark wizard’s pitiless eyes glinted as they observed Riddle’s empty hands, and a sneer of familiarity cut across his face.

“A wizard who fails to bring a wand to battle? Surely you must be this ‘Thomason’ I’ve heard of,” hissed the Dark Lord. Voldemort tipped his wand up threateningly, his eyes locked with Riddle’s, and yet the professor did not so much as flinch. Voldemort’s wrist flicked out as would a serpent striking, and a hot, blue flash erupted in front of Riddle, washing over the shimmering silver shield he had thoughtfully cast on himself. The blasting spell dissipated leaving behind the gentle and familiar crackling of the shield as it became almost invisible once more.

“ _I see_ … I do not recall a man of your caliber under Dumbledore’s thumb,” said Voldemort almost casually, continuing to patiently circle. If not for his narrowed eyes, it might have been convincing. “I thought only fools flocked to the old man like sheep to die.”

“And yet, here I am,” Riddle answered, sounding just as indifferent. The only clue that he might be nervous were his measured steps, to make sure he was always between Harry and the Dark Lord. Harry could see Riddle’s hand twitching ever so slightly, as though to grasp a wand that was not there. “You should flee, while you have a chance. Your Death Eaters are already defeated.”

Harry glanced over at Bellatrix, who had yet to move. He realized that if the two wizards continued to circle, Riddle would soon have his back to her. Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself, and faced the crazed witch. He was going to have to trust Riddle to keep him safe, something that made Harry want to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Let us see if your arrogance is earned,” Voldemort said dangerously.

Back to Back with Riddle, Harry’s eyes locked on Bellatrix, and his knuckles white from the grip on his wand, he choked back the blinding pain in his forehead. Any moment a spell would fly and he would have to battle his godfather’s murder. And for a heartbeat all was quiet… and then the fireplace beside Voldemort burst into flames and the white, and calm figure of Albus Dumbledore emerged, holding his wand aloft.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore, looking over at Voldemort but it felt directed at the man behind Harry as well. Harry felt Riddle's arm connect with his body; a reassurance. "The Aurors are on their way—"

"By which time I shall be gone,” spat Voldemort, “And you dead!” The wand that was once held so loosely between his spidery fingers was now tight in his grip, and vicious green light shot from the wand at Dumbledore. Even though no words were uttered it was as though Harry could almost hear that hate filled _Avada Kedavra_ echo through the room. The curse flew wild past Dumbledore, and shattering the stones of the fireplace leaving only rubble behind.

Dumbledore returned with a flick of his own wand. The spell had such force that even Harry, who was protected by Riddle’s frame, felt the air crackle as it passed. It soared at the Dark Lord and erupted in a blinding light and a chilling, deep gonglike sound echoed loudly. Harry’s hands snapped to cover his ears and his eyes closed tight. The glass windows to the offices overlooking the hall shattered and rained down around all five figures below.

Harry opened his eyes, the last of the glass clattered to the floor, and the Dark Lord remained unmoved. In front of Voldemort was a gleaming silver shield, conjured out of the air. Harry could not help but glance up at the mask on Riddle’s face for a moment before a sudden movement caught his eye, Bellatrix had recovered and was moving for him. A red jet of light streaked off Riddle’s shield charm in front of Harry, shattering it.

Harry whipped up his wand only to have Riddle yank him by the back of his robes to the ground as Bellatrix’s curse flew over his head. Furious, Harry tried to sit up and fire back, but Riddle’s arm urgently wrapped around his chest, and everything went black.

He was pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his ear-drums were being pushed deeper into his skull— then suddenly he was grounded once more and his vision came back with almost startling clarity.   

Riddle had disapparated them away from Bellatrix to a fireplace, and was reaching for the floo powder when Bellatrix’s cackle echoed and a curse splintered the mantle of the fireplace above them. Riddle hissed under his breath as Bellatrix laughed wildly. Another curse struck the fireplace just as Riddle’s arm circled Harry again, and he was tugged through space once more.

Harry’s vision was swimming after disapparating twice. He was being physically moved now, which Harry’ stomach was glad for. There were flashes of light and Harry could hear Voldemort and Dumbledore:

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom.”

“There is nothing worse than death!”

“You are quite wrong.”

A clear voice came from the silver faced shape in front of him. “Stay here,” whispered Riddle, before vanishing.

His vision began to clear as he realized what had happened. Riddle had moved Harry all the way across the hall to a shadowed place within Dumbledore’s view. The Headmaster’s eyes found Harry for just a moment, before focusing back on the duel. Bellatrix crowed madly, moving to strike at the wizened Headmaster before Riddle apparated to block her. Meanwhile, Dumbledore had Voldemort seized in a flaming rope that the dark wizard shrugged off into an equally fiery serpent under his command.

Riddle weaved between curses with poise as Bellatrix hurled one after another in rage. As he stepped forward, she stepped back. In a movement, so sudden and precise that it made Bellatrix pause at its familiarity, Riddle knocked the witch down with a spell from one gesture and then pulled the great centaur statue to life with another. Its mighty hoof pressed down upon Bellatrix, pinning her to the floor. Riddle rushed forward and quickly kicked away her wand. It clattered uselessly across the room, coming to rest between Dumbledore and Voldemort… the latter who raised his wand with a familiar green light appearing.

“Look out!” Harry yelled.

Riddle turned just in time to witness the steadfast phoenix, Fawkes, swallow Voldemort’s killing curse to save Dumbledore as the Headmaster finished off the flaming snake that had been set loose upon him. The phoenix fell to the ground a featherless and flightless infant, but Dumbledore still stood. He turned to face Voldemort just as Harry’s scar began to throb with renewed anger.

“Need any assistance, Albus?” called Riddle, his eyes crackling with mirth.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Dumbledore called back not sounding amused. ~~~~

The next few seconds went by quickly. Voldemort sneered, moving his wand like a whip, a violent blue light streaked across the stone at Dumbledore, who countered easily with a flick of his own wand. The sound of wood rolling across the floor echoed as they continued to fight. Bellatrix’s triumphant call rang out as she cast an angry red jet across at Riddle, who turned to counter the unsuspected attack.

CRACK! Voldemort apparated right in front of Riddle, his wand pointing at Riddle’s heart, Dumbledore turning.

An explosion of green scattered across the room like lightning.

Harry’s scar burst open and felt as though it ran through his whole body. A sick and terrible joy welled up inside him and laugh came from his mouth that was not his, echoing the other laugh that filled the hall.

And Dumbledore fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment and/or kudos. Thank you!


	17. The Headmaster's Choice

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DEAD; HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS**

In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed the death of Albus Dumbledore (pg. 6 for **Life and Death of Albus Dumbledore** ) and the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

“It is with great regret that I must inform everyone that the man who calls himself Lord – well, you know – is once again active in our country and with great sadness, I announce the death of Albus Dumbledore.”

The Minister’s statements were met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was “no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumors that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more.”

Details of the events leading to the death of the once headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Albus Dumbledore is still hazy, though it is believed that He-Who-Must-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening for reasons unknown as of yet. A group of students halted their actions lead by the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, and a man the Daily Prophet has yet to confirm the identity of until the arrival of Albus Dumbledore where it can be assumed a duel occurred in the entry hall to the Ministry of Magic.

More troubling reports have come in as the Dementors who guard the Wizard Prison Azkaban have mysteriously vanished from their watch late Friday night. It may be safe to say the incidents are linked to the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Named. Prisoners are currently being guarded by the remaining Auror force but reports have come out that they are outnumbered seven to one and are expected to become worse as attacks outside the Prison continue to rise.

The day following the death of Dumbledore and the rise of He-Who-Not-Be-Named has caused a major hike in reports of attacks. Several witnesses in Diagon Alley report sightings of mysteriously cloaked individuals stalking the streets just hours after the statements from the Minister. A recent up rise in businesses burning had also been reported following these statements on Saturday.

The Minister has vowed to triple the presence of Aurors in areas that are most affected by these recent jumps in attacks which has done little to calm the devastated owners of several shops. Many of whom have criticized the Minister’s lack of action all year even under the insistence of Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived. While the Minister claims to act against these threats only time will tell how effective his measures are.

‘ _Well_ ,’ Harry thought as he crumpled up _The Daily Prophet_ , ‘ _that didn’t help clear up anything_.’

It was two days since the Department of Mysteries and Harry was still in a state of shock. Madam Pomfrey had taken to forcing him to eat during meals, tutting at his weight loss but Harry didn’t feel like eating. He didn’t feel like anything. Even the pain that swooped in from his forehead barely caused him to stir most of the time. That pain was nothing compared to the pure ache in his chest like someone had ripped out his heart and shoved it back in all wrong.

Flowers, cards, candies, and gifts were practically filling the hospital wing. Between Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny they covered half the wing in get well presents. The only area that was blank were near the other half, where Pansy lay with her face in wraps. Apparently, Hermione had hexed her in the face when she tried to grab Hermione again in Umbridge’s office. The other members of the Inquisitor Squad made out lightly, already out of the ward the next day. Umbridge wasn’t so lucky.

Harry’s Stupefy spell had knocked her into one of her plants that was actually quite poisonous if touched for long periods of time. Umbridge was apparently only discovered by Filch the next morning as many of her Inquisitor Squad claimed they had memory spells put on them, and didn’t know they were leaving her there all night. Umbridge was covered in angry looking spots that looked like they must burst at any moment and could only speak in quiet whispers since she was so swollen. Professor Sprout was called to identify the plant, but she acted as though it were hard to find even though Harry knew Sprout had two of the same kind of plant in her greenhouse.

The Minister Fudge, along with several other officials came to visit Umbridge on that first day. Harry and everyone else could barely make out what they were saying. Harry felt like he should maybe make an excuse for why he had stunned Umbridge, but when the Minister and his group left without so much as a glance in Harry’s direction, Harry loosened his grip on his blanket. Harry didn’t feel like he could talk about anything now, even to his friends.

Hermione had taken to sitting with Harry and trying to get him to talk. Ginny would occasionally join in, while Ron and Neville seemed to understand that Harry just wanted space at the moment. Luna was released the next day, suffering the least amount of injuries, but came to visit. She brought Harry issues of _The_ _Quibbler_ , and some chocolates that had an odd peppermint flavor to them. For some reason, it was one of the only things Harry could eat without prompting. The first time she had brought them was early in the morning when only Harry and Madam Pomfrey were awake.

“I ate a lot of these after my mum died,” Luna suddenly said one day to Harry. Harry turned his head to look at her, but Luna didn’t appear sad, just held out the box of chocolates. “They were her favorites.”

“Oh,” Harry started, taking one and nibbling on it. “When—err – how did she – ?”

“Mum was quite extraordinary, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled.

“Yes, it was rather horrible,” said Luna conversationally.

The continued to chat for a bit, as Luna made some signs during her visit with Harry to request her things back by the end of the year. They talked quietly about the veil together, and Harry felt a clench in his stomach as Luna left. For just a moment in time, he had felt better.

Hogwarts seemed to have developed the same mood as Harry. Before when Harry would be in the Hospital Wing he could hear the distant echoing of students shuffling around when classes let out. The owls would be hooting in the Owlery, and distant sounds of cheers would occur when Quidditch matches were held, or a group would play for fun. There had always seemed to be so much life in Hogwarts, even when Umbridge was ruling it, and now… it was quiet. The only sounds were the shoes of students milling around, not their voices, or laughs. It only made Harry sink further into his bed.

Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Pansy were all released the next day from the Hospital Wing. Harry was alone in the ward with Umbridge at the very end but it seemed they were both doing their very best to pretend the other didn’t exist. Madam Pomfrey even let them stay apart from one another instead of moving them together like she did when the ward typically cleared out. Harry was grateful for the small favor.

The ward was silent now that everyone else was gone. Harry didn’t realize how the sounds of his friends being around him was holding off the worst of his despair until they were no longer there. He wiped an angry tear from his cheek, before opening the Quidditch book Ron had brought up to him that morning. Harry was staring at the same spot, not reading anything about broom speed, or stealthy tricks to catch a snitch within a minute, and kept replaying the last moments in the Ministry.

 _Sirius_ falling through the veil.

Chasing Bellatrix through the halls.

Bright green light coming from Voldemort’s wand.

Riddle holding up his hand, clutching something.

It streaked off wildly, the spell sounding like it was screaming.

_Dumbledore…_

Harry pinched his eyes closed, pulling his knees up to his chest instantly. There were few times in his life that he sobbed, this was one of them. Madam Pomfrey came by with a warm cup of hot chocolate, and placed it on his bed side without a word.   Harry reached for it, taking a few sips even though it was still too warm. He didn’t mind his tongue burning, the warmth in his stomach that seemed to help with how numb the rest of him felt. The door to the ward opened just then. Harry wiped his face, trying his best to not show he had been crying, just as someone sat down in the chair next to him.

“Hello, Mr. Potter.”

Harry looked up to see a haggard, pale, and miserable looking Tom Riddle. His elegant midnight blue robes were changed for simple plain black. He slumped in the chair, as though gathering the energy to sit up was too much.  A sigh, that seemed to take what little he had, escaped his chapped lips.

 “Wha—are you all right?” Harry asked, sitting up with a frown.

“I’m afraid I’m very far from that,” Riddle started with a humorless laugh, a hand wiping across his face. The bruising under his eyes were noticeable when he shifted. “But I will be fine in time. How are _you_?”

Harry took a sharp breath from his nose and sat up a little straighter. His scar prickled, and he felt a distinct drop in his stomach. A pain that matched his own, but was not his own.

“I’m… not all right,” Harry settled on, looking down at the book in his lap. “I keep feeling like all of this is a bad dream that I will wake up from.”

“As though, this couldn’t be real?” said Riddle, shifting in his chair.

“Yes,” answered Harry, feeling the tickling between his eyes, as new tears started. They both paused, and Harry took in a shuddering breath. “What is going to happen to the school?”

“The big debate is whether the school should open once more next year, with – Albus—no longer its Headmaster, many don’t feel safe,” Riddle started, his nervous gestures seemingly absent, as though he were too tired for them. “Hagrid was reinstated, you’ll be happy to hear, as well as Trelawney. The Minister appears to want to put everything back where it was before this whole mess. Including Umbridge, who will be removed from the school when her injuries are better.”

They both took a glance down the room at Umbridge, who seemed to not be paying the least bit attention to either of them. Madam Pomfrey was rubbing a thick brown sap looking substance all over Umbridge’s face and arms. The smell alone was probably distracting enough.

“What about Professor McGonagall?” asked Harry.

“Oh, she’s back,” Riddle said with a hint of a real smile for the first time. He huffed under his breath, almost a laugh. “She has been running Fudge through the wringer, despite her injuries, and meeting with the other staff members to come up with what to do for next year, and” –he paused—“for Albus.”

“When is the funeral?”

“This Saturday.” Riddle shuffled a bit, looking out the arched window for a few seconds as though to compose himself. “Students can stay for it, if they like.”

“That’s a good plan,” Harry said with a nod, clenching his bed sheets. “they’ll want to say—“

The last word caught in his throat, but Riddle glanced over at him and completed the sentence for him.

“Good-bye.”

“Will you be staying?” asked Harry softly.

Riddle stiffened in his chair. He looked away, “I don’t know.”

Harry pinched his mouth shut, and felt the urge to pull his knees up once again for a good cry. His hot chocolate remained on his side table, ignored.  Harry’s heart clenched at the thought of another person he had come to be attached to leaving him. He didn’t feel it was right asking Riddle to stay just because he didn’t want Riddle to go. Harry was sure there was another life waiting for Riddle in his own universe. Probably a world where Sirius and Dumbledore were still alive…

“Can you bring other people from your universe, here?” Harry asked, his throat tightening on the last word.

“I’m not sure if I can get back to my own universe, let alone bring another,” Riddle answered honestly. “And even if I could, they wouldn’t be the same person you lost. They wouldn’t fill that hole.”

Harry buried his face in his knees, his glasses tumbling from his face, and didn’t bother saying anything else as Riddle sat next to him for the next hour in silence. Harry was horribly grateful that Riddle didn’t try to speak to him again. Riddle waited until Harry had stopped shaking before standing up and leaving the Hospital Wing, dropping something on the bed next Harry before he left. Harry sat for another ten minutes, pressing his eyes into his knees until he could see spots dancing behind his eyelids, before he finally moved to see what it was.

It took a minute before Harry’s eyes cleared enough, and putting on his glasses, before he could see the simple wrapped gift in front of him. Harry pulled the light package into his lap and pulled at the twine holding the wrapping on.

It was a gold banded ring with a black and ugly etched stone set in the middle.

Harry turned it over in his hand, looking it over a few times. The band seemed a bit too big to fit on his finger, and Harry didn’t want to wear any jewelry. He placed it on the side table next to his bed, with all the others gifts.

The next day Harry was released from the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey helped him pack up all his gifts and chocolates into a bag, squeezing his hand before letting him leave. Harry had tucked a certain spun glass sphere he had been keeping safe, into his pocket before hitching the bag over his shoulder. He had refused to tell anyone he was being released, instead wanting to go back to the Gryffindor tower without fanfare. The halls were bare, except for a few students who stopped in their walk to stare at Harry as he passed. One of them being Cho Chang who, when they connected eyes, blushed and turned away quickly.

Harry was surprised to find that he didn’t care if Cho wanted to talk to him or not, nor did it hurt when she linked hands with another boy to leave. The Harry that wanted to impress her seemed almost disconnected to who he was now. There were far more important things to worry about, and Harry found himself at least slightly contented to see that she was happier. The rest of the trip was quiet, as the Fat Lady greeted him at the door, her eyes red from crying. She didn’t even ask him for the password, just swung open and let him in.

There were several people in the common room, but Harry ignored them, and went straight up the stairs to put his things away. Ron chased him up the steps, helping him in friendly silence. Harry took out the ring that Riddle gave him and put it on his side table next to the Quidditch book Ron had lent him.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent their evening quiet by the fireplace in the common room. Neville, Ginny, and other members of the D.A. were just outside of the circle as though keeping watch on the three in the middle. When a student could try to approach, one of the members would stop them, quietly have words, and send them on their way. Harry never felt so cared for, tucking in some chocolate, and surrounded by friends.

The rest of the week went by in a slow trudge. On Friday, Umbridge was chased out of Hogwarts by Peeves. Many of the students gathered to watch as she tried to get away without much fuss, but Peeves had caused an uproar, turning over statues in her way, rattling items to fall on her head as she passed, and then chasing her to the edge of the Hogwart’s grounds with McGonagall’s walking stick. Harry peaked out the window to watch, feeling the very first smile for the week tug at his lips.

“Good riddance!” said Ernie over Harry’s shoulder, whooping in joy.

Saturday came faster than expected. The morning was bright with a little bit of cloud coverage, almost as though to mock the students still in mourning for their Headmaster. It was almost ironic as the exams were put off, classes were postponed, and the teachers had given the students the whole week off, and yet they couldn’t enjoy their time. Harry would have given almost anything for all his exams and homework to be over with, and now… he would give almost anything to be back.

Harry packed away all his clothes, the left-over chocolate he gave to Ron and other students, not wanting any of it to melt in his trunk, and noticed something. The package Sirius had snuck into his pocket a few months ago. Harry opened it to find a mirror along with a note. In vain, he tried to conjure Sirius’s image to it, but it refused. Harry tucked it away, in the bottom behind old clothes, as though to express his anger at the object not working, but unable to throw it away. The last items he had were the ring, and the spun glass sphere Harry had been tucking away behind his pillow at the Hospital Wing, and now here.

Making a discussion, he tucked both into his pocket, and closed his trunk. The Hogwart’s Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral.

All the students still left in the school made their way to the Great Hall. Harry noticed quite a few students were missing from their tables. It seemed around a third of the students from most the tables, were taken home already by worried parents, even the Slytherins were missing quite a few, including Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were muttering to each other, and despite their hulking size, looked oddly lonely without the sharp figure of Malfoy bossing them around. Harry noticed that the members of the D.A. were all still in attendance. Seamus even have Harry a nod when he caught him looking. Seamus and his mother’s spat had already made the rounds, as he refused to leave until after the funeral.

The staff table was also missing some teachers. Hagrid, Riddle, and Umbridge all were missing from their chairs. The Minister, however, was seated in Umbridge’s chair but no one sat in the other two. Instead, the Ministers entourage milled around the table instead of sitting in the vacant seats. Harry spotted a pair of horned glasses and red hair, seeing Percy part of the group. Ron didn’t seem to notice other than stabbing at his meal and refusing to look up. McGonagall sat in the chair next to the great horned throne, leaving it empty even though she was technically Headmistress of Hogwarts now. Harry wondered if she had entry to Dumbledore’s office now, or if it was also closed to others.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Ginny. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet, and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

“It’s nearly time,” she said. “Please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me.”

It was odd, as everyone was almost silent as they filed out from their tables to follow. Harry spotted Snape wearing black dressing robes that matched his hair in sleekness. Professor Sprout was cleaner than Harry had ever seen her, and even Filch was dressed in an old suit that reeked of mothballs. They left the entrance to Hogwarts and the grounds showed the sheer number of people who had joined in to mourn Dumbledore. Harry could see Madam Maxine with a fleet of students from her school. Drumstrung students and teachers were also present, standing at attention together, but their faces were various degrees of sorrow. Harry turned to see practically every owner of a shop in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley were here in attendance, as well as many others Harry only knew by sight. There must have been as much people here, as there was at the Quidditch World Cup last year.

Harry felt his chest constricting as Hagrid brought the wrapped body of Albus Dumbledore into the crowd. It seemed wrong for him to stand there with everyone suddenly. The thoughts in the back of his mind, compressing, as he felt a cold, hard thought go through him.

 _It’s my fault everyone is mourning_ , Harry realized. _If I had just listened… if I just stayed put… Dumbledore is dead because of me._

“HARRY!” Hermione shouted after him as he bolted back into the school.

A few people turned to watch him, but not a single person stopped him. Harry ran blindly past the Durmstrang students, who didn’t seem like they wanted to stop Harry even if told to do so. The Beauxbatons seemed to pity him, some of the girls hiding behind their black scarfs, while the boys looked away. McGonagall made a half-hearted attempt to call him back, but didn’t make a move to halt him.

Harry raced through the empty halls, passing only portraits on the way. He glanced at the Great Hall where he first heard Dumbledore speak on his first day at Hogwarts all those years ago. Up the stairs and past the empty classroom where the Mirror of Erised sat his first year, where Dumbledore convinced him not to wallow in what he lost. He dashed past the girl’s bathroom where Fawkes had saved him from the Chamber of Secrets, and the office the fake Moody had taken Harry to, to interrogate him on Voldemort’s return only for Dumbledore to save him yet again… He didn’t even stop to consider where he was going, or how he was going to leave the school when this was over. His heart ached, knowing he wasn’t paying his last respects to Dumbledore like he should, but the burn in his lungs from running felt far more pleasing than his heart.

He only halted when he realized he was in front of the Head Master’s office, and the stone gargoyle was already sprung aside. The office was opened once more.

Harry panted with his hands on his knees, stopped in front of the office, watching numbly as the stairs continued to move up. He looked down one way, then another. Not a single person was around, the halls silent. Harry wondered who would be in the office now, worrying it might be someone trying to steal something, Harry cautiously moved onto the moving steps.

The sound of someone moving around caught Harry’s ears half way up. He instinctually pulled out his wand and pressed closer to the wall as he moved up. He peeked around the corner. Harry did not know what he expected the office to look like, but it was exactly the same as when he last saw it. The silver instruments whirring and puffing on their spindle-legged tables, Gryffindor’s sword in its glass case gleaming in the sunlight, the Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the desk. But Fawkes’s perch stood empty and a new portrait had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts: Dumbledore was sitting in a golden frame over the desk, his half-moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, looking at a figure who was hunched over the pensive, in concern.   

 “You would do well to stop dwelling on the things you cannot change,” said Dumbledore, his voice almost a balm to Harry’s ache. “Many men have lost themselves to their memories, do not join them.”

“I have to know what went wrong,” Riddle spoke quietly, almost madly. “If I find the moment, then I can prevent it from happening again. _I must know_.”

“Perhaps you can talk sense into him, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his blue eyes coming to rest on Harry now. Riddle turned sharply, as though spooked, before slumping onto the stone pensive for support.

“Why are you here?” asked Riddle, as though strained to keep his voice at a normal speaking level. His face was pale, and his eyes darted around the room, but never right at Harry. 

“I was going to ask you the same,” Harry countered, glancing between Dumbledore and Riddle.

Riddle shook his head, letting his hair fall gently across his eyes, before pushing himself to his full height. Once again, Harry saw the same nervous professor he had come to know this year. Riddle fidgeted under both stares, looking down at his shoes instead.

“Tom has seen fit to spend the last week going over his memories of the night I died in the Ministry,” Dumbledore said plainly, giving Harry a kind look when he flinched as though struck by the words. “As you can see, he’s in quite a state trying to find the exact moment, in his mind, everything went wrong.”

“But, isn’t that a good thing?” Harry asked, looking between the two. Riddle had yet to comment on it, twiddling his thumbs together instead.

“Correcting a mistake is always important, but obsessing over it, is not healthy. As I have told Tom many times,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes now directed at Riddle, who seemed to shrink under his gaze. “He also seems to be under the incorrect impression that my death is his fault.”

“It was my wand that caused the reaction,” Riddle whispered.

“It was Voldemort who cast the killing curse,” Dumbledore responded, peering over at Riddle over his half-moon spectacles. “You only rose your wand to deflect it. You could not know what would occur when two identical wands met, one producing the killing curse and the other, a spell of protection.”  

“I should have known,” Riddle argued, angry but not at Dumbledore. “I studied the effects of identical wand cores interacting when you asked me, I should have seen this coming. It was my fault it hit you. I should have _known…_ ”  

“Strange,” Dumbledore started, his eyes sharp. Even though he didn’t even look mildly irritated, Harry had the distinct feeling that Dumbledore was furious at the implication. It appeared Riddle felt it as well, recoiling. “I was under the impression I made a choice to duel Voldemort knowing full well I may not make it out alive.”

“You thought he could kill you?” asked Harry.

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore answered, now turning slightly to Harry. Riddle seemed to slump in relief now that he wasn’t the center of attention. “Every time I lifted my wand to fight, I knew it could be the last time. Even an unskilled wizard can get lucky or a skilled one, very unlucky. In this case, it was sheer luck that when two exact wands met, that only I was harmed, which I am grateful for.”

“YOU'RE GRATEFUL THAT YOU'RE DEAD?” shouted Harry, clenching his hands, and stepping forward to the portrait in anger.

“Not that I am dead,” Dumbledore answered calmly. “That you both made it out alive. For that, I would be very grateful. You both meant a great deal to me, Harry.” A pause. “And still do. The effects of two like wand cores are barely understood at best, while the idea that two exact wands meeting in a duel, was never even thought of. You could not have known Tom, do not let your arrogance fool you into thinking otherwise.”

Riddle straightened himself, pushing his hair back away from his face, that was flushed. Harry couldn’t tell if it was because Dumbledore’s words embarrassed him, or still feeling ashamed for thinking he caused the Headmaster’s death. Riddle moved closer to the desk, away from the pensive that swirled with silvery memories, and stared up at Dumbledore.

“I’ve known you most of my life,” Riddle stated, in a steady tone that belied his shaking form. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d either be stuck in squalor with my deranged mother, or shoulder deep in Dark Arts, most likely coming out of the other side like Voldemort in this universe.”

“That is thanks to my counterpart in your universe, not me,” Dumbledore reminded him gently.

“Yes,” Riddle said with a nod, but didn’t look any less determined. “But, for all his greatness, he never once understood me like you did. He did all of that for me, and yet… I feel as though if he died it wouldn’t have caused this shock to my core. He never _once_ understood the darkness that dwelled in me, the fight I wake up to every day, and sleep on every night. You did though. You _really_ did.”

Harry watched as a single tear escaped from Dumbledore’s eye and fell across his crooked nose, and into his beard. The room was silent for a moment as both men regarded one another and Harry got the feeling that neither had spoken about their friendship in all this time. Harry bowed his head, not wanting to interrupt this moment between them, and feeling like an unknown weight was being lifted from the room. Even the other portraits, who usually would butt into what was happening, stayed silent. Most of them were looking down like Harry, staying completely still. Others had left their portrait out of respect.

“My dear boy,” Dumbledore’s voice almost broke. “You are much better of a person than you ever gave yourself credit for. I knew that, and I wish you would see it as well.”

“Perhaps, one day I will,” Riddle answered, his voice dropping. He made a movement across his face, most likely wiping his own tears, before turning to look at Harry for this first time. “I’m sorry to have taken any time from you.”

“It’s fine,” Harry muttered, shuffling his shoes. “I only came up here because I saw the gargoyle had moved.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Riddle answered, looking over at the door way as though he hadn’t a clue it wasn’t locked. He leaned back, clasping his hands together. “Well… it’s good that you came. I can leave, if you wish to speak with Albus alone.”

“No, you can stay,” Harry said in a hurry. Then, took a breath and looked at Riddle in his eyes. “I want you to stay.” Riddle took it for what it was. He came towards Harry and put a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

“I was worried you would blame me, too,” Riddle confessed, looking ashamed of himself as he did so.

“The thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Harry answered. “I blamed myself.”

The reaction was instantaneous as both Riddle and Dumbledore rushed to tell him otherwise. It did little to stop the pain in his chest, but with both telling Harry he wasn’t at fault, it did make it easier to breathe again. Dumbledore had stopped making reassurances, instead fondly smiled at Harry, who felt his own lips tug. Riddle glanced between them, not quite sure what to make of them.

“I do have several questions though,” Harry started, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the spun glass sphere and held it up to them. “Why did Voldemort want this so badly?”

“Harry, you never cease to amaze me,” Dumbledore started, a proud smile across his face. “Have you kept it safe this whole time?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, cradling it between his two hands now. Riddle and Dumbledore both watched intently. “I kept it hidden with the invisibility spell Riddle taught me.”

“Well done,” Dumbledore beamed at both, and they each looked slightly flustered under the praise. After a second though, Dumbledore became serious once more, “But, I believe it is time for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down, and you too, Tom. This is a story both of you should be privy to.”

Riddle waved his hands and two chairs appeared in the room. They both sat and listened as Dumbledore explained the prophecy to them. The night Harry’s parents were murdered, and why. Harry had several moments where he could barely contain his anger against what he had heard, but he held still, if only barely. Riddle, placing a calming hand on his back, helped tremendously, even though Harry could see him becoming stricken at hearing the tale. Together, Harry and Riddle lifted the prophecy and heard the harsh, hoarse tones from Sibyll Trelawney. They learned that Voldemort chose Harry over Neville, that he was marked now and could not go back. That one day, Harry or Voldemort would have to kill one another.

When Dumbledore began to describe the power that lay inside of Harry, that protected him, and may yet be the power to destroy the Dark Lord, Harry could not hold his tongue any longer.

“I don’t have any secret power,” Harry exclaimed, his brows furrowed. 

“But you do, Harry,” Dumbledore answered with a warm expression. “Your heart saves you, more than you know.”

Harry listened numbly as Dumbledore ended the conversation with telling him why he made Ron a prefect instead of Harry. Harry could barely recall his feelings on the matter, they felt like part of another life. Dumbledore seemed to find it important to tell him that he felt Harry had too much to deal with, to add those responsibilities to his list.

“I’m sorry to burden you with such knowledge,” Dumbledore said softly, looking just as tired as Harry felt after all of that.

Harry handed the prophecy over to Riddle, not wanting to keep it any longer. He rather had enough of the whole thing. Riddle sat there looking down at the delicate sphere, rolling it gently in his hands.

“We should smash it,” Riddle said. Dumbledore and Harry both looked at him, the wizened man in the painting slowly smiling. “On second thought,” Riddle continued, putting the glass into Harry’s hands, “You should smash it.”

He took the spun glass and eyed it. He dwelled on the thought of smashing it for a moment and what that would mean. Dumbledore and Sirius dead, all the fighting, for this small bit of glass… but maybe he could throw it at a door… no, that would be too mundane. Or maybe smash it with a beater’s bat, he was sure that Angelina wouldn’t mind him borrowing one.  Once the idea had taken hold, Harry found that he couldn’t stop thinking of ways to destroy this sphere for all the harm it has caused in his life.

“You know, I have an excellent view of the lake from that balcony over there,” offered Dumbledore with amusement, his eyes peeking mischievously over his half-moon spectacles. “If either of you feel the need to look at things from above.”

Harry and Riddle exchanged a look between them, and together they smiled. Stepping up to the balcony railing with Riddle, Harry gave the prophecy one last look. He extended his arm over the edge and let the glass slip from his fingers. He watched as it dropped from the tower, seeing it almost disappear, and then a satisfying smash as it shattered on the hard stone below. Harry could barely see the glinting of the glass shards in the sun light, and a puff of grey smoke come from the mess.

“We’ll have Filch clean it up,” Riddle muttered just over Harry’s shoulder, as he leaned to watch it smash too.

“He’ll be angry,” Harry replied, still staring where the ball had disappeared.

“Oh, that’s rather the whole point, isn’t it?” asked Riddle, moving back into the office.

Harry followed almost without thought. The distant sounds of people playing a mournful tone caught Harry’s ear. He remembered that he was missing a funeral to Dumbledore on the grounds, but didn’t want to leave the office just yet. The summer air drifted in from the open door, and despite the sounds going on, it was peaceful. The second war was starting out in the world as the battle lines were being drawn in the sand. Dumbledore wasn’t there to protect Hogwarts anymore, Voldemort was back to full strength, but the Ministry was now aware of it. Harry was now focused on exactly what that meant for himself, worried about coming back to school the next year.

“Who is going to protect the school now?” Harry asked, looking over at Dumbledore.

“The Order, of course,” he answered, nodding, then at Riddle, “And Tom, if he would like to stay.”

“I think that’s up to the new Headmaster or Headmistress,” Riddle answered, but looked over at Harry for a moment, before, “But, I will always strive to protect Hogwarts, even if I’m not allowed back.”

“Oh, I think you will be,” Dumbledore responded with a smile. Harry could tell instantly that Dumbledore knew something they didn’t. Riddle also noticed it, narrowing his eyes at the portrait.

“What have you done?” he asked, though not in an accusing way.

“Just a letter, nothing more,” Dumbledore responded, looking immensely pleased with himself in the process. He twiddled his thumbs together, with a smile on his face. Harry had the sudden urge to laugh at his antics. “But, more importantly, you should share with Harry what you have been working on the last four months. He may appreciate it now more than ever.”

Harry turned expectantly towards Riddle, who seemed to be trying desperately to look anywhere but at Harry or Dumbledore. Harry glanced over at Dumbledore, who smiled down at the fidgeting man, the twinkle that Harry knew so well was back in his eye.

“I want to say first that it’s completely up to you if you would like me to try to finalize this,” Riddle started, stuttering in a way that he hadn’t since the first day in class. Riddle wringed his hands together. “I have noticed your… hesitance to go back to your Aunt’s… and it got me thinking –since you need protection this year—that you may –well if you don’t that’s perfectly alright—but if you do, I could have your Aunt sign and then –well it would have to be stamped by the Ministry as well—“

“Out with it,” Harry said, feeling his heart starting to beat faster in his chest. It couldn’t possible mean what he thought it did. Dumbledore just said Harry would have to call his Aunt’s house, home for the protection to remain, but what Riddle was offering… could it be?

Riddle cleared his throat, his cheeks tinging a slight pink. “I have papers asking for guardianship of you, until you are seventeen, ready to sign if you would like that. I would just need your Aunt’s signature and the Ministry to stamp it.”  

For a moment, the room seemed to spin on Harry. He sat down in the chair, his knees knocking together at the unexpected offer.

“You want to be my guardian?” asked Harry, daring to hope to see the end of having to go to his Aunt’s house.

“If you would like,” Riddle ushered quickly. “You would still have to spend a week at your Aunt’s, while I finalized the paperwork, and it would allow the protection to hold over you for another year…” Riddle shifted again. “But, yes. Yes, I do want to be your guardian.”

Harry sat in his chair, thunderstruck at the idea. He would be able leave, to never go back to his Aunt’s house on one hand, the other would be signing his welfare over to Riddle. Harry had to admit that if Mr. or Mrs. Weasley made the same offer, Harry would have agreed without a second thought to it. He would also readily agree with it were Lupin or… Sirius. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought. But, could he allow Riddle to have guardianship over him?

Riddle, who protected him, guided him in Occlumency when no one else seemed to be able to, and gave him warnings to prevent this outcome. Riddle, who came for Harry at the Ministry at great cost to himself and his universe. Riddle, who bestowed Harry with a defense book that helped him teach other students how to protect themselves.

Riddle, who tortured Umbridge in her office (that stopped her from torturing students, a voice in the back of his head reminded him), and whose presence sometimes triggered the pain in his scar (that was not his fault, the voice argued). Riddle, who was capable of being Voldemort in another life (who chose not to be).

Harry thought it over again, then looked up. He almost wanted to ask Dumbledore what he thought, when he saw the Headmaster nod ever so slightly.

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“I understand that you don’t— _what?_ ” asked Riddle, who looked up startled. His eyes went between Dumbledore who was smiling, back to Harry who was waiting. A slow grin broke across his face. “Yes?”

“Yes,” said Harry firmly this time. His heart was beating so fast Harry was almost concerned it might burst from his chest, and only realized he was grinning when his cheeks started to hurt. “Yes, I want you to be my guardian.”

“Right, I’ll get on the paperwork tomorrow,” said Riddle as his eyes misted, and he turned away, trying to wipe his face without Harry noticing. Dumbledore winked at Harry, who felt a swooping of joy start in his stomach. Riddle slowly came over and sat in the chair next to Harry, both grinning. “For now, I think we both earned a moment of rest.”

In the distance, they could hear the end of the funeral happening down below. Harry, nor Riddle seemed to be in a rush to get down there. They happily sat next to each other in silence, both absorbing all the information given to them, and their commitment to stand with each other in the coming war.

Through the open door, a gleaming red and gold feathered Fawkes came in, barely a fourth the size of his normal plumage. The last time Harry had seen him, he was barely a chick, sitting in the middle of the Ministry. Fawkes flew in the room, landing on his perch just over Harry’s shoulder.

“Old friend,” Dumbledore said, with a fond gaze at the phoenix.

Harry turned to look at Fawkes, who seemed to be making his last visit to Dumbledore as well. Harry watched as he bowed deeply towards the portrait, before springing off the perch. His stunning feathers shining like precious stones in the sun light, a hauntingly beautiful song burst from his beak as he circled the office a few times. Harry felt himself shiver as the song washed over him. Then, Fawkes disappeared back out the door towards the blue sky. Harry didn’t know why, but he understood that Fawkes was leaving Hogwarts. The sad expression on Dumbledore’s face only confirmed his suspicions.

Riddle and Harry made their way back down to the halls of Hogwarts, towards the Hogwarts Express. They passed by many students and teachers, all giving them a wide berth. Harry felt Riddle’s hand on his shoulder the whole way, the warmth sinking through his robes and into his skin. They stopped when Hermione and Ron reached them, both looking red and puffy eyed. Without a word, Hermione threw her arms around Harry, hugging him tight. Then, before Harry could even try to embrace her back, he felt another pair of arms wrap around him as Ron joined in.

The four of them stood there, three of them embracing, the Riddle observing, as the other students moved around them. Not a single complaint was heard as they shuffled around the group, moving towards the train.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He knew that he would have to face Voldemort in the future, that a second war had started in earnest. He felt the ache of loss over his godfather and Dumbledore in a way that may never go away. He knew that the Ministry would be powerless to stop what was to come, and that Hogwarts might be thought as defenseless or shut down entirely, but there was something else Harry knew without a doubt. He had friends, a family of his own that was created by his time at Hogwarts, and that he could fight for it.

But for now, he would settle for the embrace of his friends, and the protective watch of Tom Riddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed the first part of the series, please leave a comment and/or Kudos. Thank you!


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